a white blank page and a swelling rage

by You Have My Word

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The rage is why I write – I have experienced my fair share of rage, and I have filled my fair share of pages. Now I entreat you – I beseech you – write.

Write.

For the baby used as a battering ram – write. For the mother that accepted cash in exchange for not laying charges against her daughter’s gang-rapists – write. For the communities whose lives have been ravaged by fire – write. For the dictator pillaging lands that families call home – write. For the black man killed by white trigger – write.

For the store owner held at gun point for some spare change – write. For the riots that cloud the sound of what could have been a peaceful cause – write. For the baby boy wrapped and stuffed in a draw till death – write. For the drugs racing through stale veins – write. For the 2-year-old raped by brother, uncle, father, priest – write. For the hidden explosive no one has found yet – write. For the human heart eaten by human mouth – write. For the child taken and returned after seventeen years – write. For the country waiting with bated breath for justice that never comes – write.

For the knife that left his body as a hungry gaping hole – write. For the girl being bullied in the bathroom for her too-short hair – write. For the boy being bullied in the bathroom for loving another boy – write. For the next execution – write. For the next attack – write. For the next threat – write. For the next traumatised survivor that walks out dead inside – write. For the woman whose bruises match the handprints of several men – write. For the girl being forcefully corrected with a hosepipe – write. For the coma that keeps her in that clinical bed – write. For the teenager standing on the edge of a skyscraper with no fear left – write. For the fiancé paralysed for life and left to fend for himself – write.

For the flood that killed their kitten – write. For the queen who will never feel beautiful – write. For the policeman that smashed in her front teeth on the pavement – write. For the grandmother beaten in her sleep – write. For the baby found in a dumpster – write. For the homeless found in a dumpster – write. For the runaway found in a dumpster – write. For the 10-year-old pawned off in an arranged marriage – write. For the trigger-happy gunman in a school gym – write. For the next boy – next girl – sold for sex and slavery and shame – write. For the fear of being tied up and left for dead – write. For the school children who rape and film the rape of other school children – write. For the misguided drug smuggler – write.

For the 12-year-old found lifeless in his cupboard – write. For the parents who will never see their soldier-son again – write. For the badly made decisions of leaders – write. For the earthquake that kills the victor and the victims – write. For the house that fronts as orphanage and functions as sweat shop – write. For the woman with AIDS desperate to have a child – write. For the child with AIDS desperate for a mother – write. For the hosepipe filling a car – write. For the teacher who preys on pre-schoolers – write. For the pregnant mother bulldozed over in a quiet intersection – write.

For the nameless, faceless men and women who are never spoken about at all – write.

Write. If all you can do is lay words to a page, then do your part. Write. Feel the rage, and write.

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