Unknown Child
Why bother?
I suppose that it is a fair question though a cold one. Why bother with this child, with the others like him, when I know that his life cannot ultimately be saved?
Mourning – they say – But you can't bring Lulu back.
That's not it.
This child came to me from one of the villages devastated by the war, the poor baby is so worn with hunger that he is beyond saving, but still I hold him. There have been others, wounded children, sick, crippled, many on the verge of death, and so many of them have died afterwards. I've seen so many of them died, and they ask why I cry for each of them. Doctors learn professional detachment; they don't treat their patients like their own children, but who else do these children have?
This baby will not live the hour, but while he is here, I will hold him. If he wants, I will try to feed him. While he is on this Earth, he will be loved.
Isn't that just what a mother does? Oh, this isn't just a reaction to loosing my son, I never turned away from poor children, back when he lived, back when Karaya stood. Can one abandon children in need? Can a mother? Of course, I know they can, but I could never conceive of it, it is a very terrible world if babies have to cry in it.
During a year of famine in the mountains, I heard that in one of the harder hit villages, there were many children of starving mothers born witless, and I heard of the advice given – Get rid of them and get on with your life. This was the kind-hearted advice to bereaved mothers, don't burden yourself for someone who can do nothing for you. Because to some, children are there to be their parent's dreams. One might forgive a child for not being the best, for not winning all the time, but harder it is to forgive a child who will not bear grandchildren, who might never see you or recognize you. For the crime of life, these children must die.
I wanted to take them, Karaya had enough, even then – and they refused. Refused on the grounds that the women would be harmed knowing that their precious children were out there somewhere in someone else's hands, on the grounds that they might become attached to the baby and then would be saddled with them. So horrible, the idea that their children might be loved, afraid of loving someone who would die, so much that they must refuse anyone with the love to spare.
Why bother?
Because they are alive! If they will never be anything you want, they can still be! My son, oh my son never reached his 14th year, but I loved him and I still do. I know that adopting all the orphans of the world may be unreachable, but I will try. Poor baby, he will not grow up, he won't get married or have children or see the fall. I swear I will remember him, and I will love him. Sleep well little child, we'll meet again at the end of the world.
To Raven 11/27/04 – 1/10/05