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Please, hold a little
longer.
Hold your
sanity
and what is left of your joy in life.
Take one step back,
look in my child's face.
She needs peace.
She needs quiet.
Not men flipping me off
as they scurry on the blistering highway.
Not seeing the face
of one more dead child.
She doesn't need to ask me
"Why do police hate black people?"
Or hear the wail of sirens in the aching night.
Her monsters should hide under the bed,
tucked away, trapped in closets
held at bay by her glowing nightlight.
Her monsters should not breathe
under the light of day. Or pass us
as we walk down the street.
Please, can you see,
her fear of this dying world?
Can we not hold it for her?
Just a little longer?
©1998, Christie
Benson
© 1998, Christie
Benson
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