The image is seared in my mind as I type through my tears.

I’ll never forget the man in the picture below holding a cardboard sign that reads “Ferguson Police Just Executed My Unarmed Son!!!” Yesterday, 18 year old Michael Brown was shot at least 10 times by police. He’s dead.

The image is a declaration and an affirmation of humanity; a father making a way out of no way to insist that his son’s life mattered. A man standing before us devastated yet stoic holding a screaming sign announcing his son’s execution. Michael had kin. He was loved. The image is a declaration and affirmation of that too.

I’m bone tired and my mind is racing…

I’m thinking of Julian (not his real name) still recovering from being shot in Florida. Julian who talks extra loudly on the EL because as he tells me: “they need to know that I was here.”

I’m thinking of Max (not his real name) who warned me that the cops were out to lock him up and is now serving time in adult prison after cycling in and out of juvenile court for crimes of survival.

I’m thinking of James (not his real name) who tells me that he won’t live to be an old man. James who is 22 years old now and bought me flowers last Valentine’s day with his second paycheck ever. I tell him that he should save his money and he assures me that he won’t be here ‘but for a bit.’

I’m thinking of three young black men living in the in-between. I’m not sure how much longer I can live there too. I need my own sign but I’m so tired and I have lost my words. I’m looking for some cardboard and some hope.