Angels With No Heaven

"Angels with no Heaven"

A photograph, "Migrant Mother" of Dorothea Lange at 1936, had become a photographic icon of great depression in America. The photograph had shown a black and white image of a desperate mother, approximately thirty two years old. She was sitting in a disabled tent with her two worn, weather-beaten children, standing at her side. The children were leaning on her shoulders while looking back; trying to hide their face from the camera as if they were scared. And a horrible, stinking, sleeping infant was on the woman's lap. This dreadful shot by Dorothea Lange caused me a feeling of heavy-heartedness for that of mother's mournful image in the photograph.

Looking at the photo of the despairing mother with her children was like a pure sadness immersing my heart. The mother's eyes were full of misery and suffering, looking forward to see hope once again, that they may survive from the poverty that they are experiencing. But as everyday, every minute, every second that had past by and was waiting for mercy from above, she seemed hopeless for as everyday, every minute, every second goes by, their ill fortune become worst as her being hopeless become fatal. The mother's face looked so miserable that she might have felt worthless mother for she cannot provide her children's needs. She appealed as she was about to lose faith on everything: on fortunate life, mercy from people and on God. The mother's portray had broke my heart once.

Hiding their face from the camera, the children apparently have been experiencing comfortless from the world ever since, which made me felt guilt. It is not that I'm blaming myself, but it is like a feeling of guilt because the fortunate people (just like us) on that time, showed them no comfort, offer them no help, and gave them no love. The sick mother and her starved children were living in the wrecked tent, comfortless, hopeless, and loveless. No one had ever helped them until Dorothea Lange (the photographer). It is ostensibly by just looking at the way they live. For just looking at the picture, it is evident that that had not changed their clothes for like a couple of months. It shows that they have not yet taken a bath for a long period of time. For only scrutinizing the photograph, sympathy towards this family is what I feel.

As I imagine my self in the picture, it would be so horrifying to see the proof of their poverty. If I would attempt to talk to them, I perhaps hear no answer but their stomach growling and the children's cry of hunger and thirst. "Mommyyy. . . my stomach hurtsÐ'...." as the