Our Fallen Brothers
Sometimes I see the face of my 19 year old son in my mind and it is animated by so many things--youth, passion, confusion, anger, laughter and then I see the face that will haunt my dreams and waking life forever; a face drained of all life, eyes, frozen and faded, nothing living, nothing at all left of my beautiful, beautiful boy. Every mother carries within her the memory of giving birth, of seeing for the very first time, the unique little face that represents a whole new universe of being. It is impossible to be a part of such a miracle and not be changed forever. As the poet Ellen Bass said:
........a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after--if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now--you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.
........a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after--if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now--you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.