Do not Leave Flowers Here

If I don’t make it home tonight

If this stop light or intersection becomes the site,

of where those dressed in blue, moonlight, as executioners

continuously causing terror and fright,

in helpless unarmed black bodies like mine.

I’ll be fine.

But, don’t leave flowers for me here.

When you were born, we put olive oil all over your room

anointed your hands and feet,

Not knowing then, the cost of balancing unimaginable hurdles and dangerous feats,

You’d have to perform,

But beloved, this can’t and won’t be the norm.

So please, don’t leave flowers for me here.

if I don’t make it home tonight

Carry the knowledge of my love for you, as your flowers

Let each petal, be your certainty

that your melanin is a coat of many colors

Given by a proud Black father,

who saw the future in you.

If I don’t make it home tonight

Don’t leave flowers for me here.

At this site of my execution.

Instead gather up every last petal, as a new tradition

Pass them out in the community

to those mourning, grieving and broken

Tell them that you love them. Like I loved you.

But please,

don’t leave flowers for me here.