23/52 :: the quiet, the aftermath

there is a tipping point. 

of not being able to return. 

to childhood. to reverie.

to the gardens left with broken down drained earth.

we trudge forward anyway.

 carrying the remnants of crushed petaled dreams in our pockets,

our babes across our back.

the heavy weighted love for our children yoked on our shoulders.

and we leave a light on in our windows

a whisper against the dark night.

a small path lit, letting our sisters know,

our daughters, our mothers

that we remember the children who can't come home at night, 

and those who have no home.

for the departed who visit us only across dreamed up landscapes, 

and in gulped back tears.

we leave a light on in our windows

for the unwritten song of a child's life who is taken. or has left too quickly.

for the motherless child who no longer has a voice to sing out her song.

we leave a light on for this heavy weighted love for our children, yoked on our bent shoulders.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

the portraits this week are of time spent gardening with the boys. a highlight moment of my week.

then yesterday the boys' schools were on lockdown because of a man on a shooting spree.  people were killed.  others were injured.  I feel torn up inside, not only because it all unfolded blocks, steps, from my home; but it unfolded in the lives of my children. your children. our children. my oldest son's class walked to their class picnic down the very street where this man would be using a machine gun (senseless, heartless) recklessly shooting as he made his way to the college that shares the same street with my son's school.  I am so grateful that the moments carved out in time did not overlap. My middle, almost ten, locked in a classroom, was unable to go to the bathroom and had no other choice than to wet himself.  humiliating, I know, but at least he was safe.  All three of mine are safe. but there are others, no longer children, who did not return home last night.  and a man, ill and with a locked heart, that was once a baby in his mother's arms, that robbed people of their lives and of their dreams, and then, was shot himself. so my heart feels a bit shaky, my home a little torn.

much love and peace to you out there in this world today. & remember to leave a light on in your heart for those who have no light, no hope, no home.

joining in with jodi and so many beautiful others.  xxoo