Wonderland Wanderess

Introduction This essay explores the causes and effects of young people witnessing domestic and family violence (DFV) . It commences by defining and explaining what DFV is. Next, this type of abuse is critically analysed to determine how it occurs. Two theories are relied upon in the analysis, those being social learning theory and attachment theory . Following this, the prevalence of witnessing DFV  is discussed on national and international scales. Finally, the human rights violations applicable to this abuse type are touched upon with specific reference to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989).   Definition and Explanation Domestic violence (DV) and family violence (FV) each have slightly different meanings. DV refers specifically to violence occurring between current or former intimate partners. It involves one party attempting to execute power and control over the other through fear, intimidation, violence, and threatening behaviours (Ferraro

When the devil can’t reach you, he sends a narcissist.   —Romario   THIS IS A PRISONER’S TEXT.   This is a prisoner’s text, composed in a reality that is no longer my own. My mind feeds on incessant untruths, fed to it by my captor, the one who loves me the most.   This is a prisoner’s text birthed by lust and madness, weaved into a web of deception that keeps me snug and warm.   This is a prisoner’s text, written by an anguished hand which no longer possesses the will to live. It is too late. I am too far gone. Yet, live I must.   This is a prisoner’s text, but if you are reading it, it is already too late; I am already gone. These are words on a page that will soon float as freely on the wind, as the ashes of my corpse.   This was a prisoner’s text; a plea to my jailer; a voice for the voiceless; wings for the fallen.   This is an ex-prisoner’s text, the parting words of a homicide victim. This is a ghost’s wail; a butterfly’s whisper; the soft breeze that kisses your neck on a warm

    It is August, 2021 and I am embarking on the first of a series of field trips to Hartmann Park, located in the small township of Crows Nest, Queensland. I descend into the rugged bush with awkward, jarring steps, down a steep bitumen incline, my left hand gripping the metal railing and my right, clutching the strap of my bulky, grey messenger bag. I am struck by the memory of a fictional book I read in Grade 8 English class, Tomorrow, when the war began (1993). This book is part of a series that tells the story of seven youths who embark on a camping trip in remote bush, referred to by town locals as 'Hell'. The group return to find Australia at war (Marsden 1993). In that moment, I realise that Hartmann Park reminds me of the 'Hell' Marsden describes in the Tomorrow series (1993–1999). I enjoyed these books immensely as a teen, perhaps owing to the subconscious tie I bound them to Hartmann Park with. As I continue trekking into the bowels of the Earth, I stroll fu

  Friday, 3rd June, 2022 Dad's Funeral  Written and read by me Dear Dad,   The old saying goes, ‘It’s better to be late, than dead on time’ … but what happens when it’s both? It breaks my heart to know you left this world without knowing the noise within my mind.   I spent most of my life on an incessant quest to fill the enormous hole inside me, never truly grasping that nothing would ever fit right, because that hole, was shaped like you.   I recall feeling invincible atop your shoulders as a tiny girl; and if I close my eyes, I can still feel your arms around me as a woman—the prodigal daughter—returned to you at last.   This was our dance and we both knew our parts so well. Yet the right words were never said. In the end, each of us slipped further and further away from each other.   But your burden is no longer yours to carry. You are home now, at peace, safe in Nanna’s arms once more.   Rest easy, Dad. I love you.   Forever and always, Your daughte

  Conflict will either unite, or divide.  Destruction lingers on the winds accompanying it, as death lingers in the hearts of those who have loved and lost. See, the thing about loss is that it will either strengthen, or shatter; harden, or soften. We fight to hold on, and we fight to let go. Hardships are fire to be wielded as either a sword of flames, or the fuel which burns down empires. But the ashes of fallen empires form the mortar to construct the most indestructible and impenetrable of fortresses. The builders of these safe havens harbour every stone and stick ever thrown their way; bank them in silos, awaiting the day their resilience is called upon to serve their fellow humans. The warriors of empathy as they are cannot be perturbed by falsely hateful words. They are comprised only of love, waiting patiently in the dark for the lost to join them in the light. They do not give up and refuse to walk away. As Martin Luther King once said, "You cannot drive out darkness with