allah Posts

What Becomes of the Broken Children?

IMG_6656There’s a stillness over the house, the unusual quietness that is companion to the sick and ailing.  The Bean is sleeping now, propped up against a pillow that deludes his Mimi into thinking it helps him breath, being upright a bit instead of flat on his back as he most often sleeps. A Venti Latte sits here on the floor beside me. I don’t usually order the large ones but after the long drive that began in the gloaming hour and ended too late, I knew I would need double the caffeine.

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Immigration is not to blame




My heart is broken for all those mothers, those fathers, those loved ones who were on the receiving end of those terrifying text messages, the ones that said a madman with an assault weapon was on a rampage, hunting them down.

I’m gonna die.

He’s here with us.

Call the cops.

Tell them I’m hiding in the bathroom.

Tell them to hurry.

Tell them it’s too late.

I’m gonna die.

They call their mothers, the terrified do. In the last moments of their lives, the dying will call out to the one who gave them life. It is their mothers they reach out to for comfort, for assurances, the last voice they long to hear. The one voice that has always steadied them, reminded them of their value and worth.

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