Some things I wish I could unsee.
The look of indescribable grief and pain in children's eyes after seeing their mother lifeless on a hospital bed.
Refugee children leaving chilling rafts and entering into a camp that would turn to confinement within a week.
Watching and comforting a child as she tries to process her father leaving her and her family for another life.
Inexplicable grief and pain exist. And children experience it firsthand.
Then I think about homeless children playing soccer together in a dirt patch on a warm, spring day. Or dancing with two wistful angels to Disney songs in a cabin attic.
My voice has been silent for some time: partly to listen, partly to wait.
