I Can't Take It

In September, 2001, I listened in dismay as I heard the U.S. president declare they would avenge the attacks of 9/11. And I wept, knowing killing will never end killing.

In March, 2003, I nursed my brand new baby on the couch and watched the news, while the U.S. invaded Iraq. Our own troops joined this "effort". And I wept, while a deep sadness invaded my spirit that this was the world my child was born into.

This year, the west's eyes were finally opened to the horrors and atrocities in Syria. I saw a dead baby on a beach, and children who go to sleep with fear in their hearts, on the ground, on dirty mattresses, who have witnessed things no child should ever witness. I hug my babies and we donate meager toys and clothes to new refugee families. Such a pittance. Why do we deserve such privilege and they don't? Why are my children growing up healthy and unafraid? Why is there so little I can do?

And on and on it goes. Attacks and killing are met with more attacks and killing and hatred and fear and more killing, more bombing, more terrorism (on all sides!). And mothers and fathers and babies and sons and daughters die (on all sides!).

My heart can't take it. My heart can't take the violence.