This is a homage to Kathy Kolwitz and all those mothers who children are lost from life because death has taken them. The parent is left to carry the loss.
Epitaph on a Tyrant by W. H. Auden
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
About graffittigranny
I am sending these sculptures out into the world to have a dialogue with those interested in some of the existential questions like what are we all doing here? and what is the meaning of our existence if any? Each sculpture has a" twin". One twin stays at home under the safety of a somewhat boring bland roof of a dolls house found in hard rubbish. The other is left out in the world somewhere with a poem to engage you in these questions of our existence and our memories. Which existence is better? Is there such a thing as a better life?
The poems are sometimes in French because the Xmas fortune cookie said " The sum of human knowledge is not contained in any one language."
I hope over time a dialogue might begin where the sculptures create a means for us to relate in the quiet of the blog site. What this dialogue will mean or not is yet to be revealed!
Graffitti Granny 
This is beautiful. A poignant reminder that, at a time when we are surrounded by a public outpouring of grief at the horrific loss of young lives in the USA, all mothers, in fact all parents, who lose their children carry that loss for the rest of their lives.