In the hidden and darkest places of the alienated child’s mind lie secrets in waiting.
Those hidden and darkest places are unknown to the child but they exist.
A diverticulitis of the psyche, passages leading to places inhabited by demons.
This is why madness grows in the mind of the child and as they grow bigger the vines and the tangles of things they should not be involved in takes hold.
As the mind grows, unconscious of alleyways connecting those things which should be unknown but are not, demons feed from the anxiety created by the packets of poison lying deeply within.
Dirty laundry piled in a corner, blood stained and sticky. Something wrong. Something and someone not in the place where they should be.
Stealing from children their innocence and replacing it with a lifetime’s servitude to an unknowable shame.
Some days the light shines in through the cracks in the mind and a sensation of living reconnects what is broken.
Most days the blanket of guilt and of shame (for what is unknown) settles heavy and smothers the desire to breathe.
Passages leading to demons.
Some families are places of safety and health, happiness radiates out from the windows and the children have boundaries and live in contentment within them.
Others are riddled with places and phantoms a child should never encounter.
These children are ragged and raddled, anxious and angry, grubby in soul and surviving.
God only knows how.
The children today, carry the sins of the fathers and mothers and their fathers and mothers before them.
How far this theft of a childhood goes back we can never be sure.
But this pattern of demons, handed forward by stealth and by silent acceptance, this looking the other way, (any way other than where the gaze should be), is clear, it is recognised, it lives within families.
And the leprosy left to the souls of the children who are handed this burden, leaves them passing like beggars under the lit windows of life.
These are the children who will transform the landscape of futures.
Uncovering the secrets and lies of the past so that souls of the children coming through are not murdered by demons in waiting.
Vengeance is mine someone said.
Stopping the poison from seeping down veins of the future is all the revenge which is needed.
A gift from the heart. Battered and broken and bruised.
But alive non-the-less and still breathing.
Passages cleaned of the demons, the laundry is washed, it is folded and put neatly away.
All will be well.
All things where they should be.
The ghosts in the nursery have been sent on their way.
The children in future sleep safe in their beds.