My daughter talks to me
about social justice
and what it means to be
a black woman in America,
a black woman in Kentucky.
I listen and try to empathize
but I can never understand
the paradigm she lives in
everyday.

My daughter talks to me
about protests and riots,
about police brutality and
the fear of what could happen to her
because of the color of her skin.
And I want to promise
I’ll always protect her,
but I can’t.
So listen with no comforting
words.

My daughter asks me
if she is allowed to protest.
I think of her,
15,
living in a world so hostile
of her existence.
And how the best protection
is change.
And say the only thing I can:
Yes.