Someday you’ll understand the blisters on my feet from walking miles with you in my arms, while you cried for me to put you down. You’ll understand why we were only having one meal a day and why the school van never came. You’ll understand why we couldn’t stay home, while others took to the streets.
Someday you’ll understand why I wrapped my arms around you to protect you from the howling winds instead of taking you home. You’ll understand why I could only give you water while we sat on the cold pavement with nothing to eat.
Someday you’ll understand why my heart was beating faster, holding you close as the police uncles surrounded us. Why I was shielding you from the people I had taught you were there to protect us. Someday you’ll understand my son that those shields and masks were to save themselves not us.
Someday you’ll understand why I lost my voice fighting for our country with you straddled to my hip. Someday you’ll understand the pain behind the loud cries of GO HOME GOTA keeping you awake as I tried to rock you to sleep.
Someday you’ll understand my son that I wasn’t fighting for me. I wasn’t fighting because I was hungry or cold or tired. I was fighting for my country, for my people and for you.
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