I wanted to share a poem that my friend, Elizabeth, wrote about the horrific realities of human trafficking. May your heart be touched and drawn to pray for the victims of human trafficking. Specifically, you can pray that God would make a way for victims to be saved out of human trafficking, that individuals involved with or victims of human trafficking would come to know Christ, and that God’s justice would prevail. There is such a need to pray for these individuals’ lives to be restored and healed!
It’s Your Daughter
By Elizabeth Unger
It’s your daughter crying out in the darkness, no one to hear, none to reply.
Her sobs pierce the darkness as desperation and despair close in all around her like one all-enveloping, ominous cloud.
All feeling has left her limbs except for the blood on her fingertips as they grope the cold ground and the slow, painful breaking of her heart.
She is dizzy and dares not open her eyes for fear of reliving the nightmare, but shapes begin to form behind her eye lids and so she opens them in hopes that she can escape.
How did it come to this?
All her purity had been blotted out by those whom she could not control. It was supposed to be her choice, but it was her choice no longer.
Now, it was their choice.
With whom. When. How long. How many. How often. How long? Forever.
She used to love reading and writing and riding her horse with her father until it was so dark that they could no longer see the trail.
Her mother was in the process of teaching her how to cook.
She could no longer spell the word “hope” let alone believe in its existence.
The only people who knew her whereabouts were the ones who rob her of her most precious gift.
She used to dream of her husband, of the time they would spend together, of a life shared and dreamt of, together.
The children she would bear, running to her when they’re scared of the lightning or when they scraped their knees outside.
But now it’s your daughter who’s scared of the future, with no one to hold her scraped heart.
You would want someone to save your daughter, if it were her, to ride in and slay the dragons,
To pick her up off the ground and bring her home.
She may not be your daughter, but she’s someone’s precious little girl.
Someone somewhere may be waiting up with the light on, waiting and praying for her to come safely home.