To little boys who grow houses on their shoulders, villages along their spines,
To little boys who fight wars on the edge of their lips,
To little boys who love like a draft in an empty room,
Whatever it feels like
Whatever the world feels like between the palms of your hands
I imagine it may
Burn as much as it satisfies.
You were a man the second you were birthed into this world
And you lived your entire life like a refugee of the womb.
Every woman is a reminder of what you were torn from.
I know that there are riots on the edge of your tongue;
behind your teeth;
between your lips.
you is a man, now, boy.
Big and strong and hard and cold.
You is a man.
Reblogged from black-culture
What We Teach Our Boys. - Kathryn L Christopher (Source to: kathrynlchristopher.tumblr.com) (via black-culture)