Don't Cry for Me

by Daniel Black

More than anything, I want readers to reconsider the capacity of our fathers’ hearts. Many of them were handed so little, yet we expected so much. They gave more than they had, but less than we needed.

Slavery did a number on black people. We haven’t survived it yet. The institution is over, but its aftereffects still linger.

All of us destroyed him that day. And we did it happily—without shame or remorse. I’ve told myself, over the years, that we didn’t know any better. We were taught what to think—not how. There is a difference, you know. It never crossed our minds that we were destroying someone’s life.

I can’t believe I told you about Elliott. I swore never to tell anyone that terrible story. But telling it is the only way I know to honor him. This means his life is no longer a secret. That is honorable, isn’t it?

Your mother was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen. Sleek white dress with just enough train to anoint the ground.

"anoint the ground" Beautiful.

stood there, wondering how this had happened to me, thinking of all the things I’d do differently if I could live again. It was useless thinking, of course. Nothing was about to change. Not for me. There are no do-overs in this life. Either you get it right or you wish you had.

I never did say I love you. That’s the reason I’d called. That’s what I’d promised your mother I’d say.

We curse this inability in characters, but in real life, the words dry up on your tongue

No one should diminish themselves to prove their love.

I had wounded you beyond my capacity to heal you.