I had to do something with this... Let's take the next step..
posted by RHONDA M.
A
Child Called It was a required reading in one of my early college
classes. It tore me a part. I have never finished the series, it was
just too much. Reading it from the view of an abused child I would not
expect him to elaborate on his abuse. I would not want the metaphors. I
want to know who he felt when his mother hit him. I want to see his
confusion, feel his pain.
Hi Rhonda,
I think you have shed light on a very important point. Works like these may be a source of grief for us, but I dare say that there is a far higher purpose for writers to speak of such things. We all too often either turn a blind eye or become infinitely oblivious to the horrors that happen all around us. These are not horrors of a cheap Saturday night movie variety. They are the horrors that someone we may know has faced or does face even as I type these words, and this is a best case scenario here in America. I can not fathom what we could find in other parts of the world. These cries from these desperate voices are cries for help. Cries to help those whom we can hope to help. We could pine about it in a classroom, but what shall we do? Shan't we use our words to weave a web of awareness that becomes its own living thing to reach into the lives of even one family and rescue even one wretched soul? This gift we've been given is not ours to embellish for our own benefit. If we indeed have a single drop of this elixir of passion and compassion, let us be a voice for those who have none. Let us give hope to the hopeless, love to the hated. This is our call. How will you answer?
I think you have shed light on a very important point. Works like these may be a source of grief for us, but I dare say that there is a far higher purpose for writers to speak of such things. We all too often either turn a blind eye or become infinitely oblivious to the horrors that happen all around us. These are not horrors of a cheap Saturday night movie variety. They are the horrors that someone we may know has faced or does face even as I type these words, and this is a best case scenario here in America. I can not fathom what we could find in other parts of the world. These cries from these desperate voices are cries for help. Cries to help those whom we can hope to help. We could pine about it in a classroom, but what shall we do? Shan't we use our words to weave a web of awareness that becomes its own living thing to reach into the lives of even one family and rescue even one wretched soul? This gift we've been given is not ours to embellish for our own benefit. If we indeed have a single drop of this elixir of passion and compassion, let us be a voice for those who have none. Let us give hope to the hopeless, love to the hated. This is our call. How will you answer?
