Letter of an Illiterate Pt. 2

Hi! Guess what? It's my birthday today. I am turning six years old today. I'm almost a grown up! Are you going to get me a present for my birthday? The older princesses already got me a present. They got the lamp that I used to have in my room and they put pretty flower covered blankets and stuff on it so it makes flowers on the walls when you turn it on! It is so beautiful! They had it all wrapped up in paper and everything so I could unwrap it. They gave it to me while we were in the truck on the way to the new palace. We aren't supposed to give each other stuff because the men told us that. That's why they gave it to me in the truck.

Maybe you can get me some kokain for my birthday? That would be awesome! We only get a little bit from the men every day and I love it so much! I don't know why I love it but I do it is my favorite thing in the world. I don't understand why you hate it so much. You don't have to get me some I guess but I would be really happy if you did.Why does it make you so sad when I take it and use it? If it is bad why don't you make me not do it? You don't even make the men not hurt me.

I know you hate it the most when they hurt me and lay on me. But it's ok it doesn't hurt very much any more. Besides they give me kokain when I don't fight. And I really like it when you hold my hand when it hurts and give me a hug after that makes me feel better. It makes me forget about this place. I wish you wouldn't cry though. It makes me really sad when you cry. For my present, how about you don't cry for the whole day? Besides, don't you know that I am a princess? That's what the men tell me that I am here with all the other princesses. That's why I am here.

You are the only prince I've ever seen here. Are all princes shiny and glowing like you? Your clothes are really bright and pretty. Can you get me some pretty clothes like yours for my birthday? That would make me really look like a princess. 

I think that you were a soldier like my brother Isaac. That's how you got the scars on your hands and around your head. Will my brother become a prince like you when he's done fighting? I hope he's ok; I miss him a lot. I want to give him a hug.

Can I tell you a secret? I don't like being a princess. All of it is horrible except for you and the kokain. You and it are why I stay here. If you weren't here and I didn't have any kokain I would run away! You could protect me if I ran away right? Since you were a soldier. Maybe you could go get my brother and his friends to come rescue me! And then we could go find mom. She has been gone for a long long time.

I have to go now. You don't have to get me a birthday present if you don't want to. But if you do I hope it's good. 

Bye! I'll see you in a little bit! I love you!

From,
The Princess
To,
The glowing Prince who holds my hand.

(Dedicated to Binita, Ayela, and all of the other girls who have had to, or are currently suffering through sex slavery.)

Letter of an Illiterate Pt. 1

Hey dad, it's me Isaac. I just wanted to say hi and tell you about how things are going. I really really to miss you. Its hard to be here without you. Could you hurry up and come pick me up? I know you said it might be a long time but it's already been more than a year. I only have one more year before I'm a teenager so you better come get me before I get too old! I know that you want to work on my room and make it big enough for me and my sister and mom.

Is mom doing ok? She looked really sad last time I saw her when they took me and my sister. You are good at cheering her up though. I remember you cheering her up a lot when I was a little kid. I bet she is helping you a lot making our rooms look nice. She likes decorating rooms and cleaning stuff. Tell her I love her and that I miss her!

Have you picked up  my sister yet? I don't think you ever told us if you were going to pick up me or my sister first. If you haven't picked her up yet then have you checked on her? It's going to be her sixth birthday in a few days and I wanted to go see her. The guys told me that she was going to become a princess and that she would live in a palace, that wasn't even in Africa, with the other princesses. It would have been cool to go with her and become a prince but the guys told me that they only wanted girls now. And that the boys are supposed to be soldiers. They said I wouldn't like being in the palace.

I don't like being a soldier at all. I had to kill someone yesterday and I hated it! He didn't even have a gun or anything we already captured him. My friends tell me that killing people is ok and that I'll like it better when I'm older. The guys all clapped when I did it but I felt horrible. I didn't cry though. The other soldiers said that crying and hugs and stuff is just for the girls and that real African men don't cry or give hugs. But I remember one time when you visited us when I was really little and you gave me a hug. I told mom you visited but she didn't believe me. I told my friends that are as old as me in the army about when you visited and they laughed at me. Some of them said I was making it up and some of the others said that they heard you were killed! I know that's not true. You could never ever die. I told them you are the best soldier ever and they said you weren't in the army so if you are a warrior then you must be a bad guy. I told them that wasn't true either and they laughed at me.

Do you kill people? I've heard stories that you used to before I was born, but I don't think that those stories are true. You're too nice to kill people. Maybe you only kill bad people and you don't hurt them or anything like the guys here do. They are really mean to the bad guys sometimes.

Anyway, I miss you a whole lot and can't wait till you get done building my room and you come get me and my sister, so we can all live together and not have to fight anyone.

In Jesus name,

Amen.

Irrational Violence

For those who don't know what I think about the subject, child abuse is absolutely the most repulsive, evil, torture worthy thing one could ever do. Please recall that torture I see as only slightly less an evil though not worthy of itself. So to say that child abuse is torture worthy certainly makes it an abomination. It is a collection of sins cast with Satan himself out of heaven. It is violent, hateful, dehumanizing, painful, unjust, selfish, sadistic, and cruel.

Of this thing which evokes so much emotion in me I have written a poem to reveal even deeper the crimes of this tangle of sins.

Irrational Violence

Dry rough walls hold him from escape.
His crime’s a repulsive thing to the world.
With this crime—after’s too late.
His righteous anger suddenly unfurled,

When thirty years earlier father beat child.
The wretched man held back her arm
and twisted tight. His fists went wild
in his vile mission to cause her harm.

This man had been taught the right to hurt
 his daughter when she had done wrong.
He had caught her in the act, she’s a flirt.
He had seen her dance to stripper’s song.

Now she screamed for pain to stop

afflicting her flesh. Her father ignores
her begs for mercy and bloody tears drop.
”She will not evade my sting,” He swore.

But this abuser is not our prisoner;
the man in the cage is her brother.
He heard her scream, as quiet listener;
her cries their dad began to smother.

When the door opened he saw the blood
running down his sister’s face.
In his eyes justice was mud,
he ran to and opened a sharp knife’s case.

He fought back his father to save
his sister. And after the struggle
his father’s eyes afraid as the grave.
His father’s body reduced to rubble.

Now he is punished for his good deed.
His sister’s still beaten by father and wife.
Each time she slips she is forced to bleed;
 that’s what she’ll know all her life.

Those who act are punished in disgust.
But still they act. For they know they must.

I believe enough has been said.

Silence-Fear-Heroes (Dying in Dreams)

Months and months pass and fade. Each one setting the path for the time of the future. Days beget days, hours beget hours, seconds beget seconds. Each month passes away in silence slowly not even knowing that a month shall come after it. Men strive to last and survive but why should they? Time does not, it knows its horrific death awaits it as soon as it comes into being.

"This is the way the world ends; not with a bang, but a whimper." - T. S. Eliot

Time, existence, even thoughts pass away silently.
How am I expected to continue on in life if I know my life shall pass away unremembered? With no one to admonish the unbearable silence. What courage am I meant to portray if all that will remain of me is an empty shell of a man? I, like the earth and even the universe, shall pass away in only a shadow of memory which shall then fade into the forgotten.

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself." - Franklin D. Roosevelt

Time itself, the unstoppable force of nature and actuality, shall die just as it begins to live. Though, man can see the fear of death. Animals, Gods blessed creatures, attempt to live for the sake of survival. How good it would be to live for the sake of living. To walk to water for the sake of taking a drink. To study for the sake of gaining knowledge. To kill for the sake of avoiding Death's underling.

Humanity cannot ever exist in such a way. We know the fear that haunts us. Our minds, fashioned akin to that of the Lord in heaven, have the capacity for thought. Not only thought but thoughts capable of forcing us to feel that which we have never felt, even which we could never feel.
The fear stricken imagination of humanity may feel in vile nightmares; the fires of the sun, the ice of the darkness between universes, the teeth of demonic creatures in the night, strike of the earth after falling an immeasurable distance, the silence, pain, hate, and fear of inevitable death sliding over your soul...

Humanity has said that our dreams cannot show us what we have not already experienced. Humanity, to protect its mind from a premature fate--a fate that some suffered even last night--has said to experience death in a dream means the death of the dreamer. To impact the earth means physical passing. How then can we feel the loss of a loved one when we have never lost love? How can we feel fire without being burned? How can we feel the teeth of a creature that has never existed? How can some--myself included--truly know and experience the feeling of death and yet live?

"To die must be an awfully big adventure." - Peter Pan

The wretched feeling of death in the most black of dreams and waking thoughts; in essence a few moments of hell itself, is the fear of the end, the fear of perfectly dark silence. It is the undefeated enemy of all reality. None could ever defeat such a wicked, cunning, malevolent, violent, destructive, and all-powerful enemy. Yet there are Heroes.
There are not always Heroes. Wickedness triumphs commonly and even customarily. Yet in this rare instance of anti-perfect evil there are those whom shall face the evil of absolute end with courage despite the inability to combat it. They shall feel the sickness of life-absence infecting their bodies and their souls. They will gladly experience the moment of pain that lasts a moment and in it an eternity.
These Heroes who find themselves cursed to live through death throughout their lives in an endless fight against this reigning foe will die. This foe who has laughed at their squirms and mocked their feeble attempts to avoid true silence has dragged his wicked talons tortuously across their mind every night that their mind allows him to enter. These Heroes shall look towards their life-long despair and they shall die. They shall glare with a grin as equally wicked as their tormentor and they will scream into the silence, "You are defeated! I shall not die!"'

"I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of YAHWEH." - King David