In a long ago time named childhood, I found my self in a new territory
where children left their parents to raise their own children with
the guidance of a community of loving adults which would be
there for them. With out the assistance of this community that humans need
in their very long journey towards citizens, failure abounded. Too
often, we find children who raise children alone in a world of other
children proceeding badly. This rule of nature does not apply just to
folks of the human kind, but to all kinds of social creatures in the
It was a strange world where warring males felt the need to repopulate a world with their own
kind. It lead them to take babies from their mothers, which
dried up her milk. Removing the infant from her side and from her
breast fooled the body into believing the new born had died.
Quickly the body would reproduce again, leaving the mother without the resources
or energy to recover and care for the mounting number of infants. Females are not factories, and children are not
machined out of parts which are honed perfect for an ideal fit in to a
predetermined caste . On it would go, child after child . Men convinced the females to do this on the notion that it was modern,
and children came into this world with out wisdom; to be raised by children who did not have the means to do so, and so it continues to be . Her body never knowing the natural rhythms and
timing once disrupted by men's desires ......
When the female halted the
coming of children she and her offspring were often abandoned.
The blame of abandonment was a burden placed on the female, who having had little
in the beginning, had nothing in the end. She was left to rear many
children which she could never care for in the first place. All so that there can be
more and more of these children; all them born with too many,
yet not enough. They are the children of war and they come and
come. They come ragged and needy with the economy of not and never.
They are imprisoned and they are condemned. They remain invisible because we deny the world we have
created for them . I am a child of war, and I am a story teller. Come let me weave for you.