Silent Prayer

I do not know what I believe, but I know that I believe in thoughts/prayers when everything to hard to cope any more.

All I know is somehow, without rational reasoning, I reach into the depths of my essence and ask for help.

I ususally do not do for myself, only when I near to wanting to kill myself or go back into sex that damages me.

Usually I say prayer for all the women and girls still trapped in the sex trade.

I do not know why I do it,  it makes no sense.  All  I know it give a strength to continue.

If I am praying maybe it to the air, maybe to the part I thought I had lost, maybe to many who fight alongside me but I never meet.

It is not to some supernatural being, it is not to a god/goddess, it is not to nature.

Lets say it may be to my warrior spirit which is just my true being.

My being that is terrified of her own strength.

My being that has known and has seen too much.

My being that weeps more than the Pacific Ocean – whilst I have no tears.

My being that roars a rage that shakes mountains into dust – as my pain overwhelms my feeble body.

I prayer to and through her.

My prayers carry the pain, grief and utter confusion that I only shows parts to this world.

In my praying I can see my tortures with a clear eye without being part of it.

In my prayers I can finally feel pity for my prostituted self – I can give her love.

I can spread that love to all women and girls trapped in the sex trade – for in prayer all I see is their inner strength and how they keep their essence safe.

In prayer I cry that is so little that get rid of the poison left in me from the sex trade.

I cannot cure my body memories, prayer is not magic – it is just some way knowing the pain is there to reminds of the truth.

Pain comes when I blame myself or think maybe I made it all up.

Pain shows me precisely how men torture and degraded me. Pain kicks out my doubts and self-hatred, and gives me a space to know I never deserved such shit.

Pain is part of my prayers, is inside my strength –  for pain gives me back my reality.

But as I pray, the pain goes and is replace with a calm and small sense of achievement.

I did not break down, I did not harm myself.

I did believe in my past.

I don’t know if this post makes sense.

I feel in the middle of confusion, but seeing I will make it.

But it is very hard.

So I pray – whatever that is.

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