Are You Free?

Four feet meet, they are ignorant of the vice and corruption they carry about. Far above in a reality that is inconceivably evil, two hands meet. A trade is made, the deal is done. The light reveals a poor and once innocent child, now destitute of life, pleasure or the assurance of love. If she was being watched, and the horor of the moment caused a sickening silence to the watcher, the silence is now interrupted. A cloth washed in the sweat, dirt, tears and blood of so many before her is forced between the lips, sealing off the last scream that might grant her rescue. With a blow to the head, she falls to the ground. She wakes up in a cold, dark room. When darkness fades into its boundless realm, it seems to taunt her with realizations that she is trapped, nowhere to go. The years pass, people come and go from that room. Into her heart are etched memories of brutality, debauchery, and cold-blooded apathy. They provoke her thoughts to dispare, they torment her very existence, and in place of fear, she has guilt. Believing it to be her fault, believing that she was the cause of all this sorrow, emptiness, and horror, she decides to quite. The pander takes a cloth, a cloth once used to silence her screams, and silences the blood off the cement. The cold floor seems to mirror the heart of this man, he carelessly casts aside the blood-ridden cloth of his own making. He steps outside. Who is next?

Smoke ascends to the once clear sky. Painted on the earths blue backdrop is the remnants of a once peaceful village, no more peaceful or inhabited however, all dead or gone. Cries of war are heard in the distance. Chains clatter, a chapter closes, past comfort is no more. The sight of mother and father both slaughtered before his eyes, keeps him from feeling the real pain clasped about his neck, hands and ankles. Brutally forced into a distant land, he toils countless hours. His back aches from the continual strain of beatings and oppressive heat. The Cocca must be harvested, and comfort is not an excuses for respite. Eighteen hour days for fifteen years, completes the young and once healthy, happy boy's existence. No funeral, no mourning, just more Cocca. The cycle goes on, and does not end.

Then there is you. An everlasting chain of guilt, discouragement, fear and fill in the blank, makes it clear, you are a slave. Searching for satisfaction, deliverance and purpose, you fall deeper and deeper into slavery. We are all chasing wind. Grasping for something that is impossible to hold. The very thing we want, we can't seem have. The girl in prostitution is a reality. The boy in slavery is a very real occurrence. And yes, you are a slave, but to who? Yourself. Humanity stubbles in darkness, longing for light. Many do not realize they need to be delivered, but their cold blood spilt on the ground is a testament to their search.

So where are you? Will you chase wind? Will you realize that you are in need of deliverance before your death tells the world that you were. You can be delivered.

That cloth of sweat, dirt, tears, and blood must be taken from every girls mouth. The evil of this world can not go on. The slaves on Cocca plantations, and the slaves in our very own neighborhood, they must be delivered. And you. You too, must be set free.