A Third World Prayer

Bruised, blood-stained feet of a child.
Growing pains, working in the fields
‘Till she grows lame.
Dusk ‘til dawn, cultivating rice
hoping one day to get a raise
in status above her siblings.
She has four brothers
so why even bother,
in a male infested world
that she will never conquer.
Sold into slavery at thirteen
to a man 20 years older
in the dark he would behold her,
undeveloped features make her angelic
but a look in the mirror and all she sees is demonic.
Vomiting at her sight, but she really knows
that she’s starving the baby inside,
that she hopes dies, so it won’t have to be a girl
so that she can tell her lies,
that her mind and grace is what makes her defined.
Her bones boldly defined in her thin white garment.
Masked scars she cuts into her arms,
being in hell is the reason
she hasn’t seen her mom in 10 seasons
after her father auctioned her off to this demon.
Laying down in bed
she says her final prayer:

“Lord, swallow the hate that consumes this world.
Shed tears on the fires that burn our souls,
Evoke wisdom for those who will listen,
And I pray peace for all God’s children.”

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