Buried Treasure

I am a child psychiatrist, and my children are littered across Kansas. They come to me broken, betrayed by those who should care for them, but can’t, or won’t. They have studied survival in the devil’s workshop and have buried their soul to save it. They bite and scratch and hit and spit, defying me to connect, to understand, to join.

My colleagues and I put our arms around our children, see through their snarls and claws, and seek the reasons for their buried souls. Why have they concealed their most precious gifts? What dangers chased the beauty they were created to be into darkness?