Every abused child has that "place" it can be a determinate one, a tree, a room or in the head, but where to go when escaping from reality.
Some, will never let go that "place" it will be there, always ready and empty to be filled with whatever emotional painful secrets...

Dedicated to Ed Matlack that inspired this poem
with his own “Zen & the Art of Relaxation”



The place was a dark corner where
there was the meeting of two walls,
a child, shrunk like burned by fire,
inside that shadows, being so small,
that her fury could not touch him,
nor her vomit, of insulting words.

The place was a dark corner where
light couldn’t enter, escape’s door,
if one closed the eyes could enter
the loving whisper of another world,
telling the child about tomorrows
when he, going away, will not stop.

The place was a dark corner where
tears were not allowed, not at all,
where he now could hear enchanted
whispers, and the diatribes no more,
just a promise of tender caresses
instead of the welts that fury brought.

The place was a very dark corner
where she couldn’t find the small,
because if he closed his eyes tight
he will be invisible, or so he thought,
as inside his heart hate was growing
in another dark corner, big enough.