I was first a daughter who was born to a beautiful young mother near Sarita Vihar, India. My First Mother loved me deeply, and she called me hers. I was then an Orphan, as I was unjustly separated from her arms. I never knew my First Father's face or arms, and for that I grieve.
Orphan is an identity I have held not by choice but through a shattering of connection. When I hear the word orphan, I hear and feel these words: loneliness, cruelty, despair, injustice, and loss. I picture a young child holding out their arms and waiting for someone to look back at them with care and scoop them up with embrace. Orphans deeply need to know they have a place of safety, care, and nourishment. Read more of this post
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