We brought sons into this world. Strong healthy sons full of anger and rage.
They love the earth as they could never love another person. Sitting there at our kitchen table with fresh soil under their fingernails and grass stains on their knees. What happened to these children I raised, these boys who used to roll in the mud together and scrape their elbows on trees as they ran past? My boys, who used to scream ‘Mama’ at the top of their little voices so I would know they were whole and safe, why did you grow to become so full of hate?
With age came not wisdom, but unrest and impatience and jealousy. Resentment turns to anger. Anger turns to hatred. Hatred turns to fighting. Fighting turns to war. When Cain rose up and slew Abel, something inside me died with him. To see my own two boys become such monsters is enough to break any mother’s heart. My love lies with him, dead at the bottom of a river, whilst Cain languishes in his own emotional torment. The Palais de Justice has never had so solitary a prisoner.
He sits alone, and contemplates the world. He does not regret killing his brother. He regrets not doing it sooner.
And just a quickie for your viewing pleasure, some of my favourite paintings of Cain and Abel, my favourite is the one entitled THE FIRST FAMILY.