Halod Light---from Ecuador 2013

Haloed Light

They danced Under a trinity of lights strung on a wire Over a courtyard made of concrete Where weeds found new life through Cracked mortar.

It wasn't the moon that cast shadows over the courtyard in this Ecuador town. It was the the radiance from a single Strand hung over the heads of the Angels that paraded underneath.

They were the Angels of the 3rd grade class. Decked out in the white of innocence With paper wings. They twirled In unison as angel-parents Snapped pictures Trying to capture the eternal grace of childhood flying by them.

The dangling bulbs formed a rosetta like Stained-glass on the far wall In tatted lights and shadows.

This is hallowed ground. No cathedral is more adorned. In this light beauty rises from within and Truth brushes past On the wind of paper wings.

A trinity of lights carried us that night On the dreams of innocence to A heavenly host.

From Awareness to Action: Providing Housing & Support for Victims of Sex Trafficking

Posted: 02/19/2013 3:55 pm – Huffington Post

I've got a funny feeling -- like knowing it's going to rain when the wind picks up in a certain way and shows you the backs of silver maple leaves on a spring evening. The wind is rising as new books about women in the Half the Sky movement top the best seller lists and millions of people around the world dance on Valentine's Day to protest sexual violence against women. It is rising from countless local, national and international groups founded to end human sex trafficking. It is rising with the voices of brave girls and women who have survived sexual violence and are willing and able to speak their truth. And it is a prevailing wind, calling us to respond to all victims of trafficking, prostitution and addiction whom we are now seeing less as criminals and more as victims of cultures that hold the secret of sexual violence against children more dearly than a child's safety.

It's time to read the backs of the leaves before the rain falls. Sexual violence perpetrated against children feeds addiction, impoverishment and the criminal justice system. Victimized children who end up on the street may survive into adulthood, but they do not heal without economic independence embedded in counseling, safe housing and meaningful work. While public awareness in the US about the connection between child sexual abuse, human trafficking and prostitution has increased 100-fold in the past ten years, there are far, far less than 100 programs providing free housing and support for survivors. There are even fewer social enterprises where the ongoing well-being of the workforce is the primary mission and survivors are able to earn living wages while they work to clear their records and create new families.

This year Thistle Farms, a social enterprise run by the survivors of trafficking, addiction and prostitution that manufactures natural bath and body care products, is connecting with social enterprises around the world to launch a "shared trade" alliance and provide a means for women to leave the street and close the door on prison. If you were to call Thistle Farms today, there's a good chance you would speak to Shana, who was sold into prostitution at 14 to a drug dealer. She would tell you about the past three years of her life and how it took a community of people -- at Thistle Farms, and its two-year residential program, Magdalene, at NA meetings, at Nashville's Sexual Assault Center -- to make it possible for her to get her own place, reunite with her kids, drive her own car and develop a serious set of work skills that make her proud and valuable.

Winds that are strong enough to turn the leaves, like the issues of sexual violence, are universal in nature, but are experienced uniquely on our individual bodies. The wind is loud enough now that we as a culture realize that for the majority of incarcerated women in this country, before they ever see the inside of prison walls they have already known the backside of anger, the underside of justice and the short side of what a loving community should be.

Before the rains fall, let's move the conversation forward, beyond awareness to concrete action focused on long term housing, meaningful work and love without judgment. Let's feel the wind on our cheeks and work toward the healing of women and girls who have already endured enough. Let us remember that globally, we have asked that women continue to settle for bearing the burden of poverty, even as we hold them up as survivors. We can heal villages by healing the women. We can offer a shared-trade approach that holds women's social enterprise workers higher in the value chain. We can all come together before the rain falls.

The World is Old

The world is old.
Weary from eons of housing our hopes and raising our dreams.
She has borne the scars of war
And holds in her belly every person that has ever walked upon her.
She sees past our greed with rose and oak colored glasses.
She calls to us from her blue when we have stayed away with bird’s songs
And signs she waves like banners for prodigal sons.
But we don blinders to keep us moving and pay no heed.
We invent new ways to frack and hack and blast and cast her
As far away from our thoughts as we can.
We can't name one of her children that swim in our creeks.
We have forgotten the story of where her bedrock was raised.
And what parts of her were made for healing.
And when she begins to show signs of sickness in super-storms and tornadoes in snow,
We ignore it like a raspy cough heard in the middle of the night.
She speaks to us on warm January mornings in a voice we hear
Above the blaring of tornado sirens, "take heed and heart".
We don’t want to lose her.
God forbid, if she ever broke the news she was dying,
We would start to miss her.
We would scramble to her bedside shores
And climb her weeping willows to be held once more in her arms.
She is old, but she is wise and wondrous.
She is to be revered and treated
Like the Queen of Sheba, the pearl of great price, and the lover of all souls.
We should pray she outlives us and comes back strong.
Then she will still hold us gently when we return to her, our greatest mother.
Forgive us mother, we know what we are doing.
We have taken you for granted And counted our desires above all else.
We have left things undone And done things we should not have done.
We are children still beloved, not because we are worthy,
But because we are earth and water and spirit
Mixed together in the secret of your womb.
We are made from you and cannot be taken from you.
We are each other’s forever.
Let us sing your praises in amending our lives.
In seeing the gifts and protecting your rights.
Let us walk awake upon your hills and see your beauty in barren branches and wild grasses.
Then let us return with grace to you.