How did we become
minds dead to sound reasoning,
numb to violence,
our fears conned into hatred?
When I was growing up, my mom often held my hands in hers. She would carefully size my palms against hers and remark how quickly I was growing. She would trace my fingers and marveled at how long they were. They would be prettier than hers, she was convinced. Little did she know then, no other hands could be more beautiful than hers. To me.Read More »
It was the last day of my middle school. I had arrived early, one of the first few. The skies were still dark with only a hint of sunlight seeping into the new day. The school itself was still ensconced in a rare silence. Few lights had been turned on in the hallways, no doubt by Sister A, the headmistress of the convent girl school. I went to my class, dropped off my almost-empty school bag and walked down the side staircase. My sleepy senses were waking up with every step I took.Read More »