I can’t get this image out of my head. Frantic mothers calling their children, praying they are alive. Fathers clinging to the hope their sons or daughters will answer and relief will flood their souls. Knowing the longer it rings, the chance of hearing their voices again dim with every haunting buzz.
I’m so angry.
I am angry at the hate that floods lost people, individuals who place the blame of what is wrong with themselves on others.
I am angry at the dangerous rhetoric that is spread from pulpits to Twitter to politicians’ podiums to internet comments.
I am angry everyone is pointing fingers and no one seems to be taking responsibility.
I am angry our strong nation can’t seem to come together. Hate divides us.
I am so angry mothers and fathers are forced to bury their children.
Because they are all our children. They sit with us at holiday dinners. We help them with homework. We hold them when they cry. We beam with pride at games and concerts and graduations. We hurt when they hurt. We listen to them tell us their dreams. They are our sons and daughters. They are our family.
Today our family is grieving, and I am so angry.
There is love out there. I know it exists, but today I am having trouble visualizing it through all the malevolence out there. I am heartbroken. So…for now I will quiet my mind and hope for a better world, and know that often through anger at injustice, peace will come.