This book was written during the Iraq War, from the dawn when my son Joseph, a sergeant with the American Special Operation Forces went to battle.
On the TV screen I saw other mothers also waiting for their sons. Women covered by long black veils, whose eyes mirrored the same terror as mine – whose tears and cries echoed mine. And I realized that we mothers are a nation apart from all others.
It matters not which side wins, we always lose.
We lose our youth with every new wrinkle carved on our faces by the long waiting nights.
We lose our hopes for a better life, for there is no better life when all we can see ahead is uncertainty.
And we lose our sons in every wounded boy who falls, no matter the color, the race, the creed. For every boy who falls is my own boy, and I am every mother who weeps.
Be it in times of Peace, be it in a Time for the Sword.
|Número de páginas||36|
|Tipo de papel||Offset 75g|