third watch of the night

every morning now it seems

you wake into the darkest hour

crying out for warmth and safety

mother’s milk

for comfort more than hunger

and I ache to hold you close

and still stay woke

when every morning now it seems

I wake into the darkest hour

of a nation’s fear and hatred

and I am tired

I am tired of waking up to blood

I am tired of waking up to death

I am tired of waking up to

brown bodies, black bodies

crying out for warmth and safety

inalienable rights

made alien

I just want to close my eyes

but I will not

I will not

I will choose to keep them open

(tear-streaked, bleary as they are)

that I might be a witness,

standing watch for justice even through

these darkest hours,

seeing things I do not want to see

because, my love,

my fair-skinned child

sleeping in my arms–

you and I have work to do

if there’s to be a dawn

poem (c) 2016 D. Ohlandt

please only reprint in entirety and with credit given

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