“What’s wrong, Mom?” His little voice asks
“Everything.” I sob.
“Time is an enormous, long river, and I’m standing in it, just as you’re standing in it. My elders are the tributaries, and everything they thought and every struggle they went through and everything they gave their lives to, and every song they created, and every poem that they laid down flows down to me – and if I take the time to ask, and if I take the time to see, and if I take the time to reach out, I can build that bridge between my world and theirs. I can reach down into that river and take out what I need to get through this world”
dead children on facebook.
i’m talking photos of miscarried babies.
i’m talking children who passed away due to health reasons.
i’m talking horriffic images of aborted fetuses from crazy fucking anti-abortionists…
i’m talking children hurt by asshole terrorists, rapists, murderers, abusers, thieves, and our common god awful parents mother nature and father time….
as adults, we’re supposed to be protecting them….