Southbound – a poem on child sex trafficking

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Southbound

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She used to be a sturdy branch, proud and blossom-bearing.

Now she is a piece of firewood, split with an ax and used to warm a man for a moment.

She stares from the backseat down a crowded freeway and ponders the irony of that word.

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Westbound

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Cut from her life-source, now unable to bear the weight of fear, it gets so heavy that it crushes young bones.

It leaves her whiskey-scented, terribly fragmented.

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At the Border

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She recalls the shaky voice of her Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Ray, “all things work together for good” and asks herself if this journey could be included in the glorious idea of  “all things”.

Good, at one point surrounded her; it is now a speck on a mountainside with no road leading to – or from – it.

Her one piece of ID is taken. Soon after, another piece is stolen, never to be returned. This one, much more sacred – a blend of body, mind and potential.

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Eastbound

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Her eyes watch the signs blur by and the pavement turn to gravel to dirt

An unsuspecting field her suite, flowing curtains made of wheat

A client tries, her eyes to meet as she lets them close, recalling a song her Mamma lulled, “turn your eyes upon Jesus”.

She waits for things of earth to grow strangely dim.

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Southbound

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Split with an ax by one more of hundreds.

Wholeness is a far-fetched dream of which she cannot afford to let go. There would be but one option left.

Stories of rescue, of raids and redemption resound with hope just palatable enough to grasp in her small hand.

She opens her eyes and discovers what was clenched in her hand: the corner of a stained sheet. Could have sworn she was in a field.

Knuckles turn white from this plight. If her spirit weakens any more, her hope will be reduced to a thread, spinning and taut.

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Southeast bound

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She hears a wrinkled woman humming a hymn & the words come back to her.

Its truth thickens the thread.

She recalls when that freeway used to be a free way,  summons the courage to imagine a listening, loving God and wonders if anyone is praying to him on her behalf.

And just in case they are not, she whispers, “I still believe in you. You are all I have. Free me. Please.”

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Southbound

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I Know Who I Am

Sometimes it can be easy to forget who you are. Who you were made to be. When I lose touch with where I’m grounded, I feel lost & empty & like my purpose is small.

Well, I’m learning a new song(by Israel)that reminds me who we all are if we serve Jesus Christ. The words in this song are important.

Sometimes you just need reminding.

I know who I am
I know who I am
I know who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours (x2)

And you are mine
Jesus you are mine
You are mine
Jesus you are mine

[Verse:]
I was running and you found me
I was blinded and you gave me sight
You put a song of praise in me

I was broken and you healed me
I was dying and you gave me life
Lord you are my identity
And I know, I know

[Chorus:]
I know who I am
I know who I am
I know who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours (x2)

I was running and you found me
I was blinded and you gave me sight
You put a song of praise in me

I was broken and you healed me
I was dying and you gave me life
Lord you are my identity
And I know, I know, I know, I know

[Chorus:]
I am forgiven
I am your friend
I am accepted, I know who I am
(I know who I am)
I am secured, I’m confident,
That I am loved, I know who I am
(I know who I am)
I am alive
I’ve been set free
I belong to you and you belong to me

I know who I am
I know who I am
I know who I am
I am yours, I am yours (x2)

And you are mine
Jesus you are mine
You are mine
Jesus you are mine

a new name

his ankles and feet were severely deformed. guess he thought church folk would be more generous, so he had friends that towed him there. but he always stayed outside the entrance. everyone who went through that beautiful entrance, if they bothered to look his way, would see the top of his head, worn pants and the palms of his hands. he was out of place, without a name. he didn’t need one. appearance was his name.

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a scripture & more

isaiah 65…and me

1“I was ready to respond, but no one asked for help.

i didn’t ask because i had too much pride to. i thought i could handle my bad habits and secret sins and stressful days without any help, from anyone. or i was too ashamed to talk to you about it.

I said, ‘Here I am, here I am!’ to a nation that did not call on my name.

I was ready to be found, but no one was looking for me.

i know. you could’ve delivered me. but i was too busy. too wrapped up in my own selfish wants. instead of you, i looked for other things to sustain & calm me, even for a minute ~ a hershey bar, a latte’, a “comment”, sex, a new purse, an insanely good musician, my own family, gossip…

2 All day long I opened my arms to a rebellious people.

i know. my Bible next to the couch laid open with promises and grace and truth to find again. to rediscover. it was right by my son’s pirate treasure box. that was fitting. i remember the prodigal son. such a powerful image of open arms.

your spirit whispers in my ear all the time.

3 All day long they insult me to my face by worshiping idols…

i look in the mirror & i think i actually make self image & body image my idol. as well as public opinion. some days, the computer or movies can willingly & easily take your rightful place

5 Yet they say to each other,
‘Don’t come too close or you will defile me!
I am holier than you!’

like sunday morning in church when i thought that black usher was looking me up & down, but he was probably just looking to see if i needed a Bible or bulletin. i don’t want people that aren’t like me to invade my personal space. at times i think i’m somehow holier, without a word exchanged.

“holier”. if i drift from reality, i can actually convince myself that my good deeds & gifts to charity are worth holy-points to you, kept on a celestial dry erase board

These people are a stench in my nostrils,
an acrid smell that never goes away.

forgive me. please forgive me. you are my first love. your worth to me is greater than any of these things. i do need your help to react to everyday life, even the good days.

i see you. i call on your name. i run into your arms. i want my life to be an offering, one of a sweet smell that never goes away. i love you.