When You Feel Strain, Keep Your Mouth

I'm Doing One Of Three Things: I'm Writing. I'm Staring Out The Window. Or I'm Writhing On The Floor.

God's Creatures Who Cried Themselves To Sleep Stirred To Cry Again.

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.

We Routinely Leave Our Small Children In Day Care Among Strangers. At The Same Time, In Our Guilt We Evince Paranoia About Strangers And Foster Fear In Children.

… It Is Not Healing To See Your Childhood Home, But It Helps You Measure Whether You Are Broken, And How And Why, Assuming You Want To Know.