Look

Look around.

Look into the world and find what you can not see.

Find what has been stolen.

A lovely thing meant to be apart of the mind body and soul of all children.

To keep them safe in their cocoon of happiness

At least until the realities set in later in life.

But not this child.

Stolen from the child far too young to understand why.

Why.

Why does the mothers embrace not scream safety and love.

But fear and anguish.

Why does the child flinch ever so slightly when voices are raised.

Waiting for the pain.

Why.

Why can’t this child trust,

Trust that love and compassion are real.

Why does the child shrink inside.

To the back most hidden corners of the mind

Trying to grasp onto the last shreds of anything meaningful

It becomes harder each time.

Why do fantasy worlds take on a new meaning

Why do they call to this child whispering and promising,

Even if only for a moment, safety and peace.

Raised voices,

Hardened hearts,

Time spent cowering in fear.

Have stolen it.

That beautiful innocence.

The beautiful innocence of childhood.

Making them trust too much and love,

Love, with everything they have and more.

Filling them with wonder and joy as they discover the world they have stepped into.

And in this world seeing only light.

Innocence.

For this child it has lost all meaning.

Pain, death, anger, strife, fear, addiction and longing.

They took that innocence and ripped it away.

Open wounds so deep you see bone are all that remain.

“You will be okay” is what everyone says

Okay.

Not good or great just okay.

But how can they know when they have never truly seen, felt and endured what this child has.

Time, they say, heals all wounds

These wounds need more than time.

They need love.