Certain things grip the heart with intense sadness…a fear creeps into the very center of my being, unaware. I cannot help but read or listen to the news about an eight year old life, brutally taken away from this world, for no known reason. It is unfair. It is cruel. It is mindless. It is a lot of things I cannot find the right word to express or explain. One day, my child asked, “Would someone hurt a child, mom?” that questions echoes and reverberates the contours of my very being…
Is a second coming at hand? I try taking a refuge in WB Yeats…and automatically open this page…how aptly these lines depict the anarchy?
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity…
And Blake…
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
Countless other poems…but these do not bring peace to parents that lost the child. The child lost the life forever, but the fear this instills in the parents…boundless.
Why?
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