“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” ~Wm. Shakespeare
Only paltry, inadequate words. My children came home from school, and tears overflowed the corners of my eyes as I took each of their faces in my hands and kissed their warm, flushed cheeks, enfolding them in the embrace of a parent too aware of the fragility of life.
What to say? What wretchedly pitiful words can a mother give her children in the face of unspeakable wrong? The news will remain off, and I will carefully filter and protect them from what I can- illusory protection, moths-wing fragile. As certain as those parents in Connecticut did with their children this morning. And I will avert my eyes and choke down the swollen mess of my heart, and hold them tighter.
“A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, bitter weeping; Rachel weeping for her children, refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not.”
-The Gospel of Matthew 2:18