For A Mother with a shattered heart

For A Mother with a shattered heart

I don’t know your name. If you are even alive. You are a Bosnian mother, who would have remained anonymous. Still, I am connected to you, we are both mothers. The soul of a mother fiercely loves. So, your devastation found your way into my world. God would not let your suffering be lost. HE was The Witness. The Witness of a mother’s heart ripped by Genocide. It is HE who made certain you would not be filed away into obscurity. The Lord Jesus has His Eyes on the brokenhearted.

I wonder where you are, if there is someplace where all of the survivors of Genocides go. If there is a place where the living gather to mourn. Among the cemetaries, and the rubble, and the ashes of villages destroyed. If you still sit somewhere, remembering the unimaginable, screaming to die in flesh that is still living.

Who would see your hair, unkempt or the thick sweat over your small wounded face. A mother, you kept your son near to your heart. You would have hidden him, back inside your womb, had you known the action that was to be taken next. I wish I could hold you mother, more than that, in those seconds that drag on as eternity. Your eyes, and the demon eyes that found your child. Those yellow eyes of a dragon, created for the hour, as a destroyer to the innocent. The slab of a sword, he was not worthy to carry, yet as all Genocides go, the unworthy are given power to rule with the beast, to rule with all that is evil, and all that Our Lord condemns.

Mother, let me wipe the tears from here, what happened decades ago, still, must be a fresh wound, a cauterization to your soul. Yours was a deep penetrating spiritual wound, only God can heal. Only HE can pour The Holy Spirit into the abyss created that day, which scarred every piece of you, mind, body, and soul. It would take The Lord to hold you in His Arms, it would take The Good Shepherd to gently lift you and carry you around His Shoulders. You need His Intimacy, mother.

I shudder, and I vomit, I cringe, and I scream the red scream of indignity and suffering with you, mother. All mothers scream with you, and want to take you and create a shelter around you, so you may collapse, into the many arms of safety The Lord has placed around you. The Lord asks all mothers to pray for you, to cry unto Him, with the red hot poker that seared your life.

Mother, don’t feel it is the end. You are what a survivor is. To survive beyond murdered children. Don’t think or believe or feel that The Lord has forgotten, condones, or will not punish the barbarism, the savage barbarism. HE WILL AVENGE THE INNOCENT!

So, mother, in my heart, I embrace you, and pray for you, and I tell you your child waits for you in Heaven. For a little while, though you need the end of the age to be today. God’s heart bleed for you, HE remembers, will never forget, and HIS Heart bleeds still.

When they sliced your son’s head from his body as he sat on your lap. Jesus has his soul. His body was not his anymore. When the demon placed his tiny head as an apple on his sword. There were demons laughing, and dancing, and celebrating. But, this is not the end of the story. Your son suffers no more. Though yours began that day. Take the Pierced Hand of God, it was pierced for you.

Know there will be a reckoning for those that participate in such evil. Your heart is crushed, and can be resurrected. Theirs is already given over to judgment. And with the demons they celebrated with they will soon join in the abyss called The Lake of Fire.

Mother, I am praying for you. Though you’ve aged twenty years. I am praying that you take the Pierced Hands of a Saviour, whose heart was pierced for you. He bore the scars of your suffering. Yeshua loves you, and calls you by name. He wants you to know that your son is safe, smiling, and waiting for you in eternity.

(I read about this incident in The UK Guardian papers. The Bosnian Genocide which occured between 1992-1995 was horrific. Serbians butchered Bosnians, and Bosnians butchered Serbians. This is a letter dedicated to a Bosnian mother who saw her son brutally murdered in 1992. I do not know if she is even alive.)

misfit1965
(not my image)