Living and Dying by justice
by Daniel Fuqua
Inspired by the work of the International Justice Mission (IJM)
Board a plane too a far off country
Touch down in airports around the world; Jakarta, New Delhi, Shanghai
Grab a coffee a tea in some places
Enjoy it
Tonight you go to the slums
The straw houses with tin roofs
The stench of waste and lingering sweat and blood
That remain from the abuse you are trying to stop
The dim lights, musty alleys, and abandoned market places show the pain of those You are trying to aid
You can almost hear the quiet cries and bitter screams, which seem to rush around every corner, dark alley, tiny crevice of those, a prisoner of fortune held at the hands of abusers
Massive debt with no reason, no reprieve
A prisoner to a culture were those with debts are debtors eternal
Your job every hour, every minute you’re here is to save
The thought consumes you
You see a young girl, your daughters age, standing on a desolate street surrounded by Waste,
bought by a man who could be her father and carried off down another of the dark alleys
You have to stifle a scream and the urge to right were she can’t
You resist. It would only endanger her future freedom and yours
You see a debtor crushing rocks
Sweat and blood build and cake on his hands
The hammer slips and in an instant the quarry owner is there beating the man as if he was an old rug
This time all that come are tears, you can’t bear it
You want to get on with the work you came to do
But twilight threatens and all you can do is wait till dawn
As you walk toward “home” you see a girl rolling the last of her bidis, hands raw and stained from eighteen hours of work
She will sleep with rags on her hands to reduce the pain so she can work another day
You look away this time
Tomorrow you will fight for them until your will and money are gone
You can’t save all
But you know they’ll get there justice
If not in this life, than the next
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