An elderly Palestinian woman watches from a doorway in the West Bank, her eyes full of all that she has seen and is seeing. She stands for so many mothers who, in situations of conflict, bear the pain of watching their children suffer, like Mary, the mother of Jesus, who stood watching when her son was crucified.
When you are no longer running at the sun,
when you are no longer chasing birds,
when you are no longer testing us and teasing,
when you are no longer trying out the words,
when you are no longer amazing us,
when you are no longer radiant
I your mother have to watch you stumble
have to observe you torn,
have to see you broken.
The soldiers who do this have mothers.
The soldiers who do this have children.
What will they tell them about today?