The world is heartbroken.
It is hard to make sense, though, of this world at the moment. The anger and hatred and grief is all around us. It’s incomprehensible in its scale, unbearable in its manifestations. And while it shifts the ground beneath us, unsteadies our stance and disrupts our consciousness – it also strengthens our resolve.
We repeat the mantras: peace will win, fear will lose, we stand together, terrorism has no religion. We say them louder and louder as we hold each other. Determined.
And even as we tuck up our children and check on them in the small hours, we whisper the words: peace will win. Because this has to end.
Last night, I held my children close to me, kissed their soft skin, and cried for the families for whom life will never be the same. For the children whose parents won’t come home. This has to end. I held my children for as long and tight as I could before I thought they will wake. I didn’t want to let them go and be alone in the night. It’s silly. But what is this world they will one day make their own way intro. How can we fix it?
There aren’t any answers. There are, just now, only searching questions in the dark and cries into the void. This is not, though, the way it will be now. For we have to be moved to stand together, to talk, to unite.
Words wont change the world. But we have to start somewhere. By holding hands and talking about why, by making people listen, by telling our children, by being angry, by doing, by bringing about change. This has to end.