My deepest sympathies to those who died and a wonderful, eloquent elegy to their memories. A really hard, emotionally draining read that hit me in far too many places to leave comment to but well done. We must always strive to ensure that those dark days never return to civilisation and be thankful for the gifts this world has given us.
See them starved. See their clothes in shreds. See them with blank eyes and sores on their faces, their hair matted, all joy, all light, gone.
My mind doesn’t allow me to go far down these paths (a fact for which I am eternally grateful), but it peeks down the path, toward the incomprehensible at the other end, and then I recoil in pain and tears.
If for no other reason that I know that I am not, really, seeing anything.
My mind providing me, unbidden, with an image it imagines to be something like Jewish children at the time of the Holocaust is simply me overlaying a hundred thousand photographs on top of my beautiful children’s faces. It’s nothing like actually seeing it. It’s not being a mother…
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