today i feel burdened. i am re working my play Echo to give it a stronger sense of the supernatural. and with each key stroke it is as if i can feel the heart of the old and new slave crying out for recognition. the recognition of their hurts and pains. i sit. i type. i think. i pray. i weep and i wail. the earth travails back into my soul. i am burdened for my ancestors who were torn asunder by malice. weary for the child that i know is out there somewhere on the street being sold into the wreck of "humanity" called bought by rape. oh....sometimes it is too much to carry. burdened. and yet. i go. i write. because isn't it such an easy thing to do? in comparison. and i am thankful for compassionate warriors like nola brantley, sarai theolinda smith, david batstone, mercy dizon, dawn worwick, nikki junker, lili balfour, elizabeth holmes, etc. all who put their life on the line for the sex trafficked beloved. they love. and love speaks. it says "hang on, baby, hang on. you are loved and we are coming to get you".
Isaiah 58:6 Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?