In a place close to us this morning, six children burned to death. They would have been deeply asleep when the fire started, tucked away inside their beds as the world froze around them. Just as my children were at 3:30 this morning.
God is not trustworthy in the way I want him to be. I want to tell children, don't worry; you will be safe. God will keep you safe. I want to tell my children this; I want a guarantee that they will live long, joyful lives. I want to promise them that they will live to see their own children sleeping well and safely in beds.
My one-year old's mouth cups my breast and pulls milk from my body. As long as she wants to eat, I will hold her there, feeling the soft warmth of her downy hair against the inside of my arm.
My five year old sleeps, arms splayed open above her head, cheeks pink, mouth open. I bend close to hear her breathing.
There were three skeletons archaeologists uncovered in the ruins of Pompeii. I saw the picture in National Geographic: A man's arm covered his wife's shoulder; his knee nestled gently into her back. She in turn was curved around the bones of a baby. I hear the breath of that family, the sighs of their dreaming, suspended like glowing suns above their bed. I hear the hush of their sleep, the music of their contentment. Then, in an instant, it disappears like the smoke of a candle.
I finger my one year old's toes, one by one, hold the heel of her foot in the palm of my hand. I hear the laughter of my daughters, glittering like sun-caught dust in the windows of my house.
In Dresden, in Hiroshima, in so many places at so many times, children were eating. They were singing songs like my daughters. They were holding pencils and drawing; bent over books, tasting new words; rolling bright green balls across their floors. Their breaths were like bright birds, flying in circles, showing the undersides of brilliant, beating wings.
O, God. My Father and Mother God, you do not offer me the promises I want so much. And I, in turn, cannot give them to my children.
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1 comment:
Kim--
What a moving piece. An interesting perspective on a horrible event.
Unfortunately, it does not seem as though Blogger natively provides RSS feeds for blogs kept on their system. At least, I couldn't find a link to an RSS feed for you blog, which would be my preferred means of keep track of your work. You can use a service such as Feedburner to set up a feed, however. If you need any help, you know where to find me. :)
(In case you don't...Pegritz.com.)
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