This is my grandson Felix.
Felix is nearly three.
Felix is not in a subway shelter in a war-torn country. He is not on a train traveling away from his father.
Felix is all of and every child born in this world and what to do about the heart-rend of children adrift in too much in the bitter cold of this violating occupation?
I am a grandmother. I join the guttural scream shared by mothers and fathers and aunties and grandfathers and soldiers and freedom fighters and I join the keeners in believing
that this life, this wild and precious and irreplaceable life is only meaningful if it shelters the most vulnerable and that means
Felix and all children.
God, listen to your children and your grandmothers praying.