Please excuse me while I grieve for my boy…

The other day I was walking through the maternity ward
At Pennsylvania Hospital,
And a nurse asked me if I was an expectant father.
I told her no, my baby just died.
Later that day, a man asked me if I was expecting a baby,
I told him no, I just lost my son.

You haven’t heard his story, because it hasn’t been told,
And yet he is unable to tell you, so I will speak for him.

His name is Ezra Malik Katz Love,
And he came to us during this season,
Pregnant with the promise of hope
And filled with the possibilities of change,

Ezra gave us so much joy in such a short time,
But what do you do, what can you say,
When you have to give birth to your child
The day after he died.

Please excuse me while I mourn my beautiful boy Ezra…

How did he get this name?
Ezra means helper in Hebrew; he was named in honor of Eugene,
His mother’s mother’s father.

Malik means king in Arabic, Melech in the Hebrew,
Named in honor of Marion, his mother’s mother’s mother,
But also named in honor of Malcolm and Martin, of course.
And Mahatma and Medgar for that matter.
All of them left us before their time, before their work was done.

Ezra Malik - a beautiful boy, a remarkable boy,
He borrowed his mommy’s eyes, lips and rosy cheeks,
And his daddy’s nose - and the trademark Love family forehead,
And he has a full head of black hair.

But where on Earth did he get those long legs?
Perhaps it was from some distant ancestor, African or Jew,
Who had to cover a lot of ground in a short time,
Someone who was heading up some social movement,
Fighting the powers that be, or running away from them,
Or running towards them,
Or driving out the oppressors from the land,
Or setting the captives free.

Please excuse me while I mourn my little man, my Ezra Malik…

I saw my boy for only a brief moment,
Held him in my arms and kissed him on the head,
But I had many joyous conversations with him
When his mother was his home,
I told him about the world and about his family,
About his grandparents and his cousins, and his two cats,
And he was a good boy, he always listened,
He responded to his daddy’s words by kicking his mommy’s belly
…with those long legs of his.

I wanted to see him grow up,
But the Universe had other ideas, other plans for him,
Perhaps I’ll never understand,
I’ll always wonder what could have been, what would have been,
What should have been.

So, please excuse me while I grieve for my son Ezra…
I miss him, and I love him very much.

BlackCommentator.com Editorial Board member, David A. Love, JD, is a lawyer and journalist based in Philadelphia, and a contributor to the Progressive Media Project, McClatchy-Tribune News Service, In These Times and Philadelphia Independent Media Center. He contributed to the book, States of Confinement: Policing, Detention, and Prisons (St. Martin's Press, 2000). Love is a former Amnesty International UK spokesperson, organized the first national police brutality conference as a staff member with the Center for Constitutional Rights, and served as a law clerk to two Black federal judges. His blog is davidalove.com. Click here to contact Mr. Love.

Any BlackCommentator.com article may be re-printed so long as it is re-printed in its entirety and full credit given to the author and www.BlackCommentator.com. If the re-print is on the Internet we additionally request a link back to the original piece on our Website.

Your comments are always welcome.

is published every Thursday