I can’t stop bawling. For the memories you hold and the stories you remember I thank you. For the connections you make and the ideals you hold close I thank you. I can’t stop bawling. That’s it,
I dig to retrieve the memories— then it feels it like it was yesterday that we were eating that one tiny chicken together cooked over the hot coals, trying to carve it to share among a dozen or more people, saying we were full so others could eat. ❤️
I have been thinking so much this week about how war and violence springs from the unresolved trauma of men who were once boys. And I have thought even more of all the women who must raise their sons in the throes of war and terror, knowing this... a wholly different kind of fear for those with daughters, but nonetheless terrifying.
Yes to all this. And your post this week is required reading for everyone, especially those struggling to grasp an extremely complex situation. Always grateful for your words and your support my friend. xoxo
Thank you so much for writing this beautiful piece. As a Muslim, I knew who you were writing about. These were Muslim women. Their stories are forgotten. People don't think of Muslims as human beings, which is why so many people are fine with the genocide taking place now in Palestine. They are NOT "human animals". They are simply human, and their pain is the same as ours just as their love and hope and comforts are the same as ours. Thank you for your tender words. May we all learn to treasure the stories of your blessed socks.
Their stories will not be forgotten. And I hold hope that two groups that have often been defined as less than human through history, will grow see more of our common humanity than less. Thank you for your comment Grace.
Thank you, Jim. I hope you find the healing and fullness that always comes from old friends, especially after so much time away. Enjoy every minute.
I can’t stop bawling. For the memories you hold and the stories you remember I thank you. For the connections you make and the ideals you hold close I thank you. I can’t stop bawling. That’s it,
I dig to retrieve the memories— then it feels it like it was yesterday that we were eating that one tiny chicken together cooked over the hot coals, trying to carve it to share among a dozen or more people, saying we were full so others could eat. ❤️
More tears.
Every single day I want to cry for the children and rage against war. And more and more I wonder at my own privilege. Your story touches me deeply.
This was so beautiful. Thank you.
I have been thinking so much this week about how war and violence springs from the unresolved trauma of men who were once boys. And I have thought even more of all the women who must raise their sons in the throes of war and terror, knowing this... a wholly different kind of fear for those with daughters, but nonetheless terrifying.
Yes to all this. And your post this week is required reading for everyone, especially those struggling to grasp an extremely complex situation. Always grateful for your words and your support my friend. xoxo
❤️❤️🩹
Brilliant 🙏
Thank you so much for writing this beautiful piece. As a Muslim, I knew who you were writing about. These were Muslim women. Their stories are forgotten. People don't think of Muslims as human beings, which is why so many people are fine with the genocide taking place now in Palestine. They are NOT "human animals". They are simply human, and their pain is the same as ours just as their love and hope and comforts are the same as ours. Thank you for your tender words. May we all learn to treasure the stories of your blessed socks.
Their stories will not be forgotten. And I hold hope that two groups that have often been defined as less than human through history, will grow see more of our common humanity than less. Thank you for your comment Grace.