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To My Sisters With Sons

My Heart Breaks

By Cynthia FieldsPublished 5 months ago 2 min read
To My Sisters With Sons
Photo by Juan Manuel Merino on Unsplash

To My Sisters with Sons,

My heart breaks as I am sure yours does as well. Our hearts pound nervously each time he leaves the house, as he says, "I'll be back." Our mother bear instincts rise within us as we watch our cub walk out of sight or back out of the driveway.

The ringing of the phone is more than that; it is a warning shot to duck for cover or run to find that which we have raised from our womb. Sisters, we find sleep elusive now because it is open season on our sons, husbands, brothers and we fear that goodbye, really means, forever! That kiss we planted on their cheek just might be the last expression of love we get because the world desires to squash them!

When did it become okay, to kill our babies recorded live to be replayed before the world? That it's just okay, no sorry, no reason, no accountability or blame, yet we are the ones standing accused for the state-of-affairs that made it comfortable to snatch the life breath from that which meant everything to us!

So, my sisters, what do we do now? How do we continue to bury our dead? How do we turn and continue to accept that the ground has reclaimed the dust from the dust that God gathered and spit upon, molded and shaped in His image then breathed life into, placed the future in that same child's hands to carry, only to be snuffed out by the arrogance, hatred, meted out by a bullet and a choke hold?

I don't have the answers, but I have a heart that is full, splitting at the seams, because it can no longer hold the tears, the pain. What is that thing called justice?

My knees are sore, and I fear my prayers will haunt me in my dreams. We are the mothers of the slain, the innocent boys, the conquerors laid at the altar sacrificed; killed by unfriendly fire! I see the blood on the murderer's hands, the stain soon to be a book deal, or a storyline to boost ratings.

My son, your son, God's gift! I waved goodbye this morning, my heart sank when he promised he'd be back.


About the Creator

Cynthia Fields

I adore words and I love what happens when we grab them, sleep with them, holler and scream and laugh at them! I love what happens when we throw them in the air and watch them fall magically from our minds onto paper!

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