Debbie Marshall

Developed via the Fantasy and Belonging workshop and mentoring.
Debbie also attended the Poetry workshop.

I never sleep easy.

I never sleep easy when my son is out.

Our 5:00 AM rule, let me know if you are staying out, Ok?

This has nothing to do with him, it’s all to do with the world. He’s a big man, but every time he leaves the house, I hope and pray he is fine.

I never sleep easy when my son goes out. I tell myself he will be OK. But I still can’t sleep peacefully until I hear those keys jingle, his footsteps climbing the stairs.

Sounds that bring comfort only a mother will know, 

relief, he’s home, thank you God, he’s home. 

I wake almost like an alarm clock, as if my body knows he should be home. 

I go to the bathroom, not turning on the light, 

not wanting to check the clock, no message, my heart sinks. 

It’s 5:00 AM. No text. 

Stopped every Friday by police in his early teens.

It’s 6:00 AM. No text. 

Black people are forty times more likely to be stopped by police.

It’s 7:00 AM. No text.

Seven times more likely to die after arrest. 

it’s 8:00 AM. No call. 

I begin to imagine the last time this happened, and all was OK. It will be OK. I get ready for work, he’ll soon come. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. I stop my mind from thinking, feeling the worst. 

But where is my son, he knows the 5:00 AM rule. It’s not because I don’t trust him.  I don’t trust them. 

It’s 9:00 AM. My gut starts churning, I hear my breath, my mouth watering, but feels dry, I am unable to swallow my saliva, my heart is beating fast.

It’s 10 AM. I tell myself he’s a big man he’s fine. While secretly my mind saying it’s 11:00 AM, his phone’s off, he’s not called.

I begin to feel my eyes swell up, full of tears ready to burst, my heads hurting.

 It’s 12 PM, it’s 1 PM, where is he? where is he?

WHERE IS MY SON?