As children we bear the directness of trust and truth, and
that booth of careful watchfulness.
And when they break that trust, so early on, as swansong
to the humanity they claim,
the child’s desire to pursue the truth always
can go one of three ways.
And one way is sad way, where lies and half-truths replace
the sincerity which
humanity is born with,
an honesty which could make
so many of us
so much cooler than
And a second way is ruthless way, where the abiding
of fierce belief in absolute
frankness becomes a
painful diary of life lived hurting, and crying and
ness (alone in core as well as
And in this second case, the heart of one is
parted twice: first, through the trust broken by
dreadful parents; second, by the lies their hypocrisy
But a third way does still exist, for those young people
who still see beyond the missed of foggy
winters and boasted summers.
So trawl and recall
and recover that childhood: that moment of
trust which – before cruel recidivism and
oxidisation decaying –
made you the humanity you wanted to be.