Rachael

Location

10451
United States
40° 49' 7.4604" N, 73° 55' 37.7904" W

(poems go here) Rachael*

She is a whisper silent harmonica,
With a song that isn’t able to whistle through broken pipe holes
Because the walls of her uterus have tumbled down
As if the Great Wall of China wasn’t solid enough to hold itself up against a treble
Clef.

Wyoming cries
Because its daughter has just been targeted
A victim of human trafficking,

Eight year old Rachael was one of many children, who scraped their feet on dirt roads In Lines of four,
Holding hands like shackles on loan from the slave masters of Kunta-kente.
Wearing Harriet Tubman’s, “how could you” facial expression as Rachael was being Sold Like platanos and papayas to men and women who care nothing for her.
What kind of late night monsters must you be,
To buy, and steal a little girl’s innocence from her memory, and call it discipline.
Tell me; what derives do you get from little girls?
At the age of 8,
Rachael
They will never understand the mistakes they’ve made.
Mistakes,
That have been broken between heaven, and hell
Rachael will carry the beauty of heavens comfort
Walk on the spears of hells flames
Jesus
You said walk by fith and not by sight
But walking to you seems like walking on damaged eyelids
And I can’t understand
The way God
Holds little Rachael in his hands
But it still seems as if mankind has snatched her.
Humanity!
How could you ruin the children and think it’s okay?
How screwed does your mind really have to be to take them?
Explain it to me
Because in the twinkle of her eye Rachael has eagle spread legs and twisted faced Father figures
Are spoiling her features, transforming her womb into a graveyard
Rachael.
Your stifled screams behind paper walls of hotel rooms are drowned out by the sound Of
Aluminum birds, the helicoptors reflections in your glistening eyes
Horses galloping down your torso
With cross roads burning between your thighs
Wyoming! Can’t you hear your daughter crying?
Like middle school snicthes get stiches, you hold your toungues out of fear of Sleeping eternally with dust particle flowers
And make sure you bite your tongue and cross your fingers that she isn’t dead
Because I can’t hear her fighting in the room next door anymore.
Rachael. Are you there?
Rachael. Can you hear me call your name girl?
Just before your mother put you up for apdoption
Lift you like a sacrfice to the devil,
But do you think its possible to find your humanity once you have lost it?
Rachael young warrior.
Will wear the code survivor creaset into her cheat.
We’ve etched your name as the 14th amendment.
Rachael.
History books can now tell how Santa Ana winds swept your hair
With harp strings that played broken breaths from your diaphragm
Rachael.
Your story proves that fairytales exist in non-fiction fables.
Because some believe that Human Trafficking is another
I got raped and my mother sold me story
But I’ll be the first to carve your face right next to George Washington in Mt. Rushmore.
Because this poem is for you
Rachael.
Rachael*

She is a whisper silent harmonica,
With a song that isn’t able to whistle through broken pipe holes
Because the walls of her uterus have tumbled down
As if the Great Wall of China wasn’t solid enough to hold itself up against a treble
Clef.

Wyoming cries
Because its daughter has just been targeted
A victim of human trafficking,

Eight year old Rachael was one of many children, who scraped their feet on dirt roads In Lines of four,
Holding hands like shackles on loan from the slave masters of Kunta-kente.
Wearing Harriet Tubman’s, “how could you” facial expression as Rachael was being Sold Like platanos and papayas to men and women who care nothing for her.
What kind of late night monsters must you be,
To buy, and steal a little girl’s innocence from her memory, and call it discipline.
Tell me; what derives do you get from little girls?
At the age of 8,
Rachael
They will never understand the mistakes they’ve made.
Mistakes,
That have been broken between heaven, and hell
Rachael will carry the beauty of heavens comfort
Walk on the spears of hells flames
Jesus
You said walk by fith and not by sight
But walking to you seems like walking on damaged eyelids
And I can’t understand
The way God
Holds little Rachael in his hands
But it still seems as if mankind has snatched her.
Humanity!
How could you ruin the children and think it’s okay?
How screwed does your mind really have to be to take them?
Explain it to me
Because in the twinkle of her eye Rachael has eagle spread legs and twisted faced Father figures
Are spoiling her features, transforming her womb into a graveyard
Rachael.
Your stifled screams behind paper walls of hotel rooms are drowned out by the sound Of
Aluminum birds, the helicoptors reflections in your glistening eyes
Horses galloping down your torso
With cross roads burning between your thighs
Wyoming! Can’t you hear your daughter crying?
Like middle school snicthes get stiches, you hold your toungues out of fear of Sleeping eternally with dust particle flowers
And make sure you bite your tongue and cross your fingers that she isn’t dead
Because I can’t hear her fighting in the room next door anymore.
Rachael. Are you there?
Rachael. Can you hear me call your name girl?
Just before your mother put you up for apdoption
Lift you like a sacrfice to the devil,
But do you think its possible to find your humanity once you have lost it?
Rachael young warrior.
Will wear the code survivor creaset into her cheat.
We’ve etched your name as the 14th amendment.
Rachael.
History books can now tell how Santa Ana winds swept your hair
With harp strings that played broken breaths from your diaphragm
Rachael.
Your story proves that fairytales exist in non-fiction fables.
Because some believe that Human Trafficking is another
I got raped and my mother sold me story
But I’ll be the first to carve your face right next to George Washington in Mt. Rushmore.
Because this poem is for you
Rachael.

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