Human Trafficking
Penning thoughts
of what you are feeling
how can I?
A few days
when in material comforts
life's essence was changing
he was dying
I felt shattered
I had so much still
family, and love, and home
what happens when you
lose it all?
Do you lose yourself too?
Enslaved, Uncertain
Years on
returning home
they call it a rescue
Am I happy?
What am I returning to,
I have a home?
©Nimi Arora
Prompt by and Shared with-
The questioning end in the final stanza actually made me sit up and think how it must feel in that situation. I've just read your poem again and it really is very good.
ReplyDeleteThanks Julian. It's been difficult just imagining this. A cruel world indeed...
DeleteI've read that some go into shock on "rescue" as if they've lost a soul. Your poem is so moving!
ReplyDeleteThanks Susan. I watched a movie once in which the victim is not accepted by the family. I think that must have triggered this thought in me.
DeleteI think one must lose a great part of oneself - the old hopeful self- in such a situation. And even returning home - so changed - would create a wondering in the person. There is healing, but no going back to before the abuse happened. A very strong poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot, Sherry. The good thing is that this prompt has gotten us thinking, imagining. And hopefully working towards whatever little change we can make.
DeleteWe just can't imagine how a victim would feel if released. Their lives would be altered for ever and their eyes ever watchful, fearful fo r the rest of their lives. Excellent poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks. That is what I was wondering about when writing this. How does one get over this kind of cruel experience?
DeleteVery touching. When all has been taking from you how can you just continue living like nothing has happened You can't
ReplyDeleteExactly. As I tried to write about it, my first thought was, how can I ever imagine that kind of destitution... Counting my blessings right now...
DeleteSee a Spanish movie called
ReplyDelete"Food and Shelter". Devastating but brilliant. We are lucky. Some of us realise more than others.
Is that what writing poetry is about? Realising more than others... We are all the more blessed then.
DeleteIt is such a difficult subject. It does remind us, how lucky we are.
ReplyDeleteCount the blessings, but try to help the ones not as blessed. If only it were that simple in practical terms!
DeleteDisturbing...ah, the trauma is anchored within, and it lives there like a parasite. Sigh!
ReplyDeleteWe have touched on a topic that is so disturbing that more often than not most of us choose to ignore it. And that has to change for things to change...
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