The look on her face puzzles me.
Is it contentment? Is it concern? Is she happy or worried?
I think she’s just read the headlines about hundreds of children lodged in an old warehouse in Nogales, Arizona. Refugee children running from terror into a turmoil that they cannot imagine. And now she is embracing her child so tenderly, so powerfully that he or she disappears into the mother. From the womb to life…now from terror to tenderness. If only she could take the child back into herself, save him from the horrors of Sudan or Central America, save her from child slavery and scarring abuse. If only.
What do you think she’s thinking?
What are we doing to the innocents?
Why?
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