Prayer of Liberation

Share the joy
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Twelve feet.
Only twelve feet
between her and freedom.
She stood on the balcony
with a handful of other girls
after another night of beatings
another night of forced smiles
and fake pleasures
while strange men
with sweaty bodies and dirty eyes
forced themselves on her
forced themselves inside of her
in exchange for money
that she would never see.
She looked at the plank of wood
five inches wide
wobbling in the wind
stretching from her balcony
to the one across the way.
One wrong move
and the fall would kill her
but after another night
in that place
twelve feet
didn’t seem so far
and the cost of failure
didn’t seem so high.

Srey Rath went twelve feet
for the liberation of women.
How far will you go?

As I read her story
one of millions
most without a happy ending
something primal
burns inside of me.
My fists clench
my pulse quickens
my sweat rises
my inner fire ignites.
I pace like a caged animal
searching for an opening
to leap out my cage
and tear my captor
their captor
to pieces.

I am a child of
the Goddess and God
a priest of
the Lady and Lord
sworn to devote myself
body, mind, heart, and soul
to the service of
their divine mysteries.
One of their greatest mysteries
is the Great Rite
the Hieros Gamos
the Holy Marriage
between lovers.
In that moment
when flesh meets flesh
and soul meets soul
the two intertwine in ecstasy
igniting our world
in the brilliant light
of a new sun
setting us ablaze
in the fires of power
the power of creation
the power of transformation
the power of liberation.
This is an act of magic
an act of rebirth
an act of celebration
of the spirit of the divine
as we have encountered it
in the flesh of our lover.

If the world is my temple
and all acts of love and pleasure
are my rituals
then sex slavery
is the ultimate act of
desecration.
These slavers
have stormed
the temples of the Goddess.
Every punch
every kick
every slap
every whip
is a gleaming ax
hacking through her altar.
Every moment of imprisonment
and every act of violation
is the raping of the Goddess
on her broken altar.
Not once
but again
and again
and again
a million times over.

As the child of a mother
who was abused
by the hand of man
I cry out to Bríd
the Goddess Brighid
to protect and heal
her children.
Blessed Bríd
Lady of the Flame
mend their wounds
and help them carry
the flame in their hearts
even on the darkest nights
when twelve feet of wobbly wood
stand between them and freedom.
I cry out to Bríd
the Goddess Brighid
to grant me the strength
to speak out in defense of
the living flesh of the Goddess.
Blessed Bríd
Lady of the Flame
grant me the eloquence
and confidence
and perseverance
to inspire others to action.
And as a last resort
in these women’s hour of need
I cry out to Morrigú
the Morrigan
Crone of War, Crow of Death
to fly with these women
to lend these women her ferocity
to descend upon the slavers
in their darkest hour
with no more mercy
than they hold in their hearts
for their captives.
Morrigú
soveriegn Goddess
these women
are your living image.
Grant them their liberation
and bring a swift end
to any effort to enslave them.

This is my prayer.
But these women
need more than prayers.
And so
I swear before all of you
and before Goddess and God
Lady and Lord
to live my life as a prayer
to act in the service
of what I pray for.
Let my heart remain restless
and my hands remain busy
until all women
and men
and children
are free.

My name is Treesong. I'm a father, author, talk radio host, and Real Life Superhero. I live in Carbondale, Southern Illinois. I write novels, short stories, and poetry, mostly about the climate.

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