I suspect the first face of the Divine we see is the light in a parent's eyes. This was denied to our babies in the days of fatherless, sterile births. Our babies were born to brilliant light blinding them to all faces; Robot-like doctors caught them and slapped them on their tiny butts.
The babies were quickly whisked away, after a brief glimpse of mother, To be weighed and measured for any signs of less than physical perfection. When our babies were finally handed to us, they were tightly swaddled To discourage mothers from examining their tiny genitals, fingers, and toes.
Fathers were banned from participating, except during visiting hours, Where they were encouraged to hand out cigars in front of a window of glass. The first time a father was allowed the scent of his son or daughter Was on the day that he was summoned to take his wife and this stranger home.
Babies didn't know that they were beloved above all others on earth By these two vulnerable beings who would give their lives for them. At birth, made part of a greater creation, without individual importance, They were weened away from their parents by an angry, vengeful God.
My grandchildren were born into the loving arms of both their parents, Who have never been other than vulnerable, yet loving, gods to them. How humbling it has been to be allowed to participate in the process, Knowing they are part of the procedures for setting our wounded world aright.
I pledged to do all in my power to protect my children and their progeny From any and all influences that attempt to drag them back to our mistakes. How hurtful it has been to watch them choose to walk backward To rescue beloved others left behind, in their family's progress's wake.
It is with eternal grief that I have set them free from further obligation To celebrate with me that we have all, together, won the fight to survive. Our celebrations, finally may have felt to them, like deepest betrayal To those who are still married to their painful patriarchal security.
I have been asked to tell my stories of my triumphs and traumas By one to whom I have connected over many thousand miles. The growing pains of the women and families of my country May give guidance to those still sacrificing their children to gods of war.