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Poem
Dear Sons, 
Listen. Your mother and I love you. I helped plant you both through seeds of love. Your mother carried you, nurtured you inside of her body. But, You were made in His image. Beautiful and ingenious- you were shaped in it. So if adults in your lives fail to remind you with our words, God put his spirit inside your spinal cord. It can never bow down to Bel...that systemic racist entity that entices you to fail. 
See through that telltale-
Walk upright in his sight. His spirit flows from your marrow to every vein. Even at this tender age, you’ve been adequately trained. A wise man once told me: “Making your mark on the world is hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. But it's not. It takes patience, it takes commitment, and it comes with plenty of failure along the way.” 
Taste the bitterness of defeat. Suck the painful, venomous hatred away from the wound when you witness Mr. Floyd’s June 4th funeral. You were probably reminded that “Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle.” Nevertheless, we are not black raccoons. We are royalty. We will recycle that bitterness and use it as the brine to fuel our own vessels of progress. We will not shy away from the fight.  
Command your limbs to go to battle. With your hands, strengthened to fend off oppression by the skills you obtain through education and vocation. Legs swift to run towards justice, arms embracing your brothers and sisters and eyes focused on that prize of living bountiful earthly lives in preparation for eternity. 
Reject Icarus. Blind ambition leads to erroneous decisions based on selfish positions. 
Embrace your meteoric rise to greatness. Sky up like The Phoenix, or even Pegasus. Go All the way up and feel blessed. 
Sincerely,
Your loving father who is patiently awaiting your legacy!
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