Children die every day, large numbers of them due to disease, starvation, parental abuse, and dehydration – its as though humankind has stacked the deck against them as the result of indifference, greed, and war.
Children who are the victims of war are lumped together in the category of “collateral damage” – “damage” often predicated on religious, ideological, and genocidal policies forgetting that all children are the children of man.
The loss of life due to such pursuits whether man, woman, or child should never be minimized, the loss even more egregious, more cruel, more difficult to bear when it involves children.
Every demographic, every culture on the face of this planet has experienced this grief, and I would never attempt to lessen the degree of that grief for any parent, any nation, yet for a people the loss of those within their own strikes a harder blow, cuts a deeper wound, is intensely more personal.
Wars periodically rage, a grim reaper accompanied by disease and famine while individuals and corporations play the money game as though they are immortal, and if not then exceptions will be made and they’ll get to take it all with them when their time comes.
How many billions or millions does anyone or any entity need?
How much power and influence?
How many “reality stars” or “celebrities” does the world need, and what is the attraction for those who hang on their every word? What is missing in their life?
We are told an age of enlightenment began in the eighteenth century, an intellectual and philosophical awakening, yet I see little of that in today’s world, I in fact believe we are on the cusp of new dark age, the initial steps having already been taken.
We cannot withdraw, isolate ourselves in some personal enclave. We need to become involved, everyone of us to the degree we are capable of – if we do not then like it not, agree or not, the end result is we become facilitators.
On a barren stretch of wind blown land a roughly etched stone marks the resting place of child whose name has been lost to the world – both a testament and an accusation against an age of enlightenment.
A child that was loved, a child of value who surely laughed and played at times, a child who like her people was hunted and struck down merely on the basis of who she was, a child of the nations.
I don’t know who took this photo, but I feel as though I understand the motivation, and it is a worthy honorable thing.