(Looking out:)
Clad in black, I stand behind the curtain.
How did I get here? I never thought it would be this way.
My gown is long and sultry – my face is worn with emotion.
Two more before, then it’s my turn.
God, to my old life will I ever return?
I never wanted this. Will someone come get me out?
I’m lonely.
I’m desperate.
Here I stand…in my little glass box.
Praying for escape and knowing it’s impossible.
—————-
Then I see her…a girl, dressed in pink making her way down the street.
She looks different. There’s light all around.
She’s laughing with a friend.
She doesn’t see me yet, but maybe if she turns around.
Look! Won’t you look!
I’m here in this glass box. Don’t you see!?
I meet her eyes, and the color drains from her face.
She sees my heart I just know it.
She’s looking in my eyes – that light is full of promise.
She smiles and mouths the words “hello”.
I see in her face that her mind is at work.
She sees me, I just know it…
I watch her walk down the street with her friend, and remember what freedom looks like.
She looks back several times and meets my gaze.
Freedom, sweet freedom…maybe one day I’ll see.
————————————–
(Looking in:)
Walking down Bangla Road I see two women that stand out in the crowd.
I feel my heart being pulled down a side street.
I suppose we’ll go there and pray. I’m sure the Lord has something to show us.
My heart is burning. I’m not sure what I’m about to walk into.
We make our way down the street and then I see it…
a GLASS BOX.
Two women are twirling about and standing with numb expressions on their faces.
They’ve learned to ‘deal with it’.
They’ve grown tolerant of their conditions – and make the best of it.
We stop at the end of the street for a moment and greet a few people.
Without warning I feel a rush of wind behind me.
“What was that?” I think to myself as I begin turning around.
Then I see her.
Her hair is long and brown, hanging dully down her back.
Her shoulders are sunken.
Her black gown, bedazzled and such does’t hide the lost expression on her face.
She sees me.
Our eyes meet and my heart leaps into my throat.
I see those pleading eyes – and recognize my inability to do anything in my strength.
I begin to pray.
Deep, deep, hollow eyes…silently calling out to be seen.
Her arms fall empty at her sides and she watches me walk back down the street.
I turn to say hello – but somehow that doesn’t seem like enough.
I smile and pray that God’s love surrounds her.
Those eyes keep looking at me, and I hear her heart beating…
“Get me out of here. I never wanted to be here. I was taken. Please…see me!”
I walked the rest of the street glancing back – her eyes watched me the whole way.
I felt and saw it.
When we made it to the main street – I couldn’t help but cry.
I felt like I knew her story.
I felt like I somehow knew a taste of her pain.
I saw her fear. I felt her shame.
I felt her loneliness. I felt her sense of being trapped.
She was taken. She was new. She wanted out.
She wanted out of that glass box.
She wanted FREEDOM.
————————
Those eyes…those eyes…their impression imprinted in my heart and mind.
It spurs me on to pray for the many people who are taken…
and placed in circumstances they never imagined nor deserved.
It happens all over, not just here. Even in the USA, maybe even in your own backyard.
So what can you do????
Pray for the women in the glass box…
Pray that God would raise up people from within this place to bring about change + freedom!
