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POEMS ABOUT HUMAN TRAFFICKING
4 years ago
| The Group
Human Trafficking Poem
Category: Writing and Poetry

Just a peice to make you think

What of the Faces

 

A little girl holding a teddy bear.

Innocence radiating from her eyes.

What becomes of her? This child.

Sold into modern day slavery, by her own family in need of money!

Her mother, her father, who gave her life.

Her freedom, her soul, are now just property!

Soon her innocence disappears, her eyes grow dark.

Turning tricks for the highest bidder, hoping to eat today, and live till tomorrow.

But honestly, she wishes she was dead.

Because death would be a better existence, than her own existence.

However, she has no way out. Her body, just property!

What of the faces, this human trafficking.

Who profits at the expense of others.

Destroying lives, a dollar at a time.

Yet, the little girl holding the bear, long forgotten to the world.

Until, another little girl, innocent, holding a teddy bear, is sold.

Just property!

What of the faces?


Read more: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=137031905&blogId=407749709#ixzz0zIL5kU00

4 years ago
~Five Now Three~

-Where once five stood
now only three-

Shrouded by hunger pains,
there were no cries this night.
Harsh rifles were silent,
baby kept vigil beside
mother’s empty breast,
while I ate tears.

No need to break
down doors that don’t exist.
Clouding our air with jungle sweat
and callous, hard looks,
gripping metal manhood
like impatient lovers,
bravery encased in bullets they fired.

Father died,
mother screamed,

we huddled closer
become one with the floor
and baby was gone.

we huddled closer
become one with the floor
and baby was gone.

Just another commodity,
just another sale
in bargain baby boutique.

-There are now only three
Mother, sister and me-

A QUOTE
4 years ago

The time is coming when people will be astonished that mankind needed so long a time to regard thoughtless injury to life as compatible with ethics."

- Albert Schweitzer, physician/Nobel Laureate.

4 years ago

As a fan of def poetry and subversive, positive and/or political hip-hop I had to share this wonderful poem by Preach called Cotton.  It explores the role consumerism plays in our lives as a form of modern-day slavery.  It's the same consumerism that encourages us to buy slave-made goods and continues to demand low prices, regardless of the implications to workers.

Are we slaves to the items we buy?  Or are we the slaveholders of those who make those items?  Can we be both?

 

Warning: NSFW!!!

 

 

 

Amanda Kloer has been a full-time abolitionist for six years. She currently develops trainings and educational materials for civil attorneys representing victims of human trafficking and gender-based violence.

http://humantrafficking.change.org/blog/view/def_poetry_consumerism_as_modern_slavery

4 years ago


"Slave screams,
but she's glad to be chained to the wall." - Happiness in Slavery
Silent wounds speak worldly wise scars.

Fifteen damn years and what do you get;
Blank stares, four foster homes
meager government check.

Worry, anxiety, home-less-ness
no cash, who gives a %#&!*% family,
expenses pile up quick.

Harmless it seems
a scanty pic and click
soaring across the world wide web.

Smooth talking muscle don't come cheap
and either do the bruises
pelted upon her soft cheeks.
Shopping sprees wild drunken brawls
replace high school proms
never worn jerseys.

Stands a fifteen year old
age one hundred five
smug before the judge mocking his prudish pride.

Patience and time teach how to trust
value her life, treasure her flesh.
Not see you and me as two-faced chumps.

You’d never know not even guess
she was once a product bought and sold
in the dark market webs of United States Slavery Trade.

Harmless, it seemed,
a scanty pic and click
soaring across the world wide web.

"Slave screams,
but she's glad to be chained to the wall." - Happiness in Slavery.
silent wounds speak worldly wise scars.

4 years ago

Enslaved: Human Trafficking

Published Mar 31, 2009

Beautiful women travel from distant lands
for a better life,
They see the red, white and blue as relief,
Yet, when they arrive,
They are coerced into misery and grief,
Sold like cattle to the highest bidders,
Used repeatedly to launder dollars,
Innocent foreigners caught up in
slavery,
No one says anything because it boosts
the economy,
Flesh being traded and used over and over again,
Superceding drugs as monetary gain,
Human beings have become an expensive
commodity,
Enslaved and trapped for the use of their bodies,
Some are victims of their own comrades,
who have come to America and extracted
the debaucherous scherades,
Holding women hostage with the new games
they have learnt,
until they are demoralized and their souls are burnt,
Who watches over these atrocities?
When the "oldest profession" keeps those
in power happy,
Enslavement of foreign women is everywhere
imaginable,
It's time the World did something about it!

Instead of remaining silent as if it never happens..

4 years ago

Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.

Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.

He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.

And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel

Smiting his stallion's flank.

Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.

At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.

 

The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.

He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Cross posted for Rose from news posts
3 years ago

NUMB: A POEM AGAINST SEXUAL ABUSE.
By REETI SHING

 

Numb…I feel numb through it all…
I know you’re there…I know you’re wronging me…
Flashes!
That’s all I have left in my mind…
you numbed my voice…you forgot to numb me?

You numbed my voice…you numbed my flesh,
Numbed my mind…numbed my sight…
You forgot to numb me?

You stole me-
A child!
Away from home, away from my cradle…
Cowards! Cowards are you!
You numbed my voice, you forgot to numb me!?

You thought I couldn’t see you?
You thought I’d sleep through while you stole my dearest from me?
You left me, open in the fields!
My dear sirs…it was cold, you know it!
I still can feel the cold metal of the bench against my skin…
Just as I could feel your hands…everywhere.
You beat me…the other laughed!
Oh! How it rings in my ears!

Cowards are you!
You numbed my voice…you numbed my flesh,
Numbed my mind…numbed my sight…
You forgot to numb me?

I spend my day,
Now in a daze…
All the familiar now seems a haze…
My cradle doesn’t feel mine anymore!
You’re a thief!
you stole not only of me…you stole from me…
am angry now!
Am angry now, but my voice is numb…
Am scared now, but my tears are numbed…
Am in pain now!
Dear sirs, can the pain be numbed?

Can your laughter be numbed?
Can your hands be numbed?
Can you be numbed?
You cease to feel that am only numbed, not dead…
You cease to think that I will wake up…
You cease to feel the pain I do…
Sirs, I scream and scream and scream!
But how you’ve numbed each one of them!
I scream within, I wreath within,
Oh! How you cease to pause!

The night is dark,
And so is your mind!
Lost in a few flashes, all that was mine…
Applauses for you, dear sirs…
I remember not your face,
But your hands will I ever forget?
Your beating will I ever forget?
Your laughter will I ever forget?

You left me there, out in the cold…
A piece of rag, ain’t i?
Nobody’s daughter, nobody’s friend?
Or did you think you can numb me into being nothing?
Am sorry, dear sirs!
You failed here…

The night is now past,
I sit here now, on this steel expanse,
You succeeded, my dear sirs,
I now sit bare, not bare just in front of you,
But here, on this expanse…
To make note of your deeds…
In one night, you took away my covers…
You numbed me forever.
A silent tear runs down my cheek, as I now sit bare again…
This time, on my own,
I still feel numb as I see my clothes being “handled”…
The tear drops as I am told to bend…
Bare am i…
No longer, numb, my dear sirs,
No longer numb…
No longer, numb, my dear sirs,
No longer numb…!

Reeti Singh is pursuing B.A.(H) English in Indraprastha College for Women, North Campus,University of Delhi

http://www.youthkiawaaz.com/2011/06/numb-a-poem-against-sexual-abuse/

3 years ago

 

She smells of cigarettes and sex

A slave to what her heart expects
She's messed up in a tragic way
And none she love's will ever stay

The eyes of her peers are pitiful and dead
And the glares of hate just mess with her head
Forever silent and alone
Her haunted mind shall not atone

Far from herself and who she is
Curse can't break from loves first kiss
Hide's in plain sight for all to see
Put's on the show of who to be

She hates this life that's forced her hand
Lost in a world she can't understand
And no one see's the pain in her heart
Though it's clear to all she's falling apart

 

 

Chloe Adele Cage

  Tragic Slave

 

3 years ago

Your Life is Priceless Phumzile Zwane

Your life has no currency

A single rand* is not worth your dignity

Pricing your body cannot define your identity

Avoid affinity and lift your own integrity.

 

Human figured minds, myopic about their immoral lives

Why they can’t just move away from these shattered lives.

Shipments of humans treated as objects in exchange of a decent life.

Selling minds, selling lives, ripping away dreams.

 

Their hearts cold,

worth hatred

shifted to their toes

and yet the truth remains untold.

Equal in brain that drains, the pains running through their veins

This is a new generation,

with less integration,

with no future intensions,

inspiration,

intuition is not introspected

 

This freedom is taken for granted

These temples are no longer respected

Our minds are objected

 

You are not for sale

You cannot be bought, neither sold

For God owns your soul

 

Remember God in all cases

Every season for every reason

For God knows your life is priceless

 

3 years ago

Bravo Rose, Bravo.......!

Haikus
3 years ago

A little girl awaits hopeless
Subjected to prostitution's ills
Who's going to rescue her

Little sister where u go
taken away so
Far away from home

Ill fated child sex slaves
House of ill repute
Appalling shame must cease

3 years ago

Thank you Rose and Julie  for the latest poems very sad very touching.


There is so much pathos in all the poems on this tread.



This post was modified from its original form on 06 Nov, 6:50
3 years ago

DREAMS ARE NOT ENOUGH - a children's poem about slavery

In the beginning
children ran free
playing games
dancing with flowers
looking up at the clouds
and making dreams.

It is a land
not so very far away
a neighborhood
like yours
where the children
look just
like you and me.

They smile
and make funny faces
to each other
happy
feeling safe
and loved.

The people
are kind
but the village

is sad
caught up
in an unfair world
full of greed
and war.

A world
where evil
still lives
and men
make plans
to hurt

to hurt
the people
and the village.

And the worst
of these plans
is slavery
where men
women
and even children

are owned
like animals
and have no rights
of their own.

And so the slave traders
came capturing
the peoples
of the village
hurting the men
stealing mothers
and children
taking their lives
and chaining them
into slavery.

They are sent
to camps and factories
cities and countries
all over the world

children no longer
with their mothers
forced to work
and hunger
they no longer
run free.

The children are sad
and cry out – alone
as slavers steal lives
and destroy villages
but they cannot
steal dreams
and in their dreams
the children
always run free.

But dreams
are not enough
for children
little or big.

Through teary eyes
a child remembers
what it was like
to run free
a shackled hand
moves out
the darkness
reaching for freedom
voices echo
END SLAVERY NOW!

 

© 2009 lgjaffe

 

3 years ago
Children in Slavery

By Eliza Lee Follen

When children play the livelong day,
   Like birds and butterflies;
As free and gay, sport life away,
   And know not care nor sighs:
Then earth and air seem fresh and fair,
   All peace below, above:
Life’s flowers are there, and everywhere
   Is innocence and love.

 

When children pray with fear all day,
   A blight must be at hand:
Then joys decay, and birds of prey
   Are hovering o’er the land:
When young hearts weep as they go to sleep,
   Then all the world seems sad:
The flesh must creep, and woes are deep
 When children are not glad.
3 years ago

Wall Photos!


‎"Screaming into a plastic bag"

Muffled are the sounds that utter from lips when spoken in a plea for understanding.
Drowned out by the rivers of apathy, do all cries for compassion fade off into oblivion.
Bound from head to toe in Seran Wrap, unable to breathe or hear our own words, we bellow in silence.
In living "neo-sarcophagi" as it were, already withering to dust from the heart, inside out.

From our helpless encasement, all manner of truths are so easily discernible.
An imbalance between greed and morality, a dissolution of the righteous all around us.
An agony which consumes indiscriminately, unceasingly suffocating all into submissive lethargy.
A collective fear to act in the face of undeniable reality making us sightless.

Scream, we may, to an Earth encrusted in a candy coated, profane shell of ecological waste.
Shouting in futility at the silicone people, searching for a shred of substance within.
Hollow, pseudo human beings all fluttering about in a pointless ego dance encircle and smother us.
The sycophantic, idol worshiping and finance enchanted populace, deaf to all we utter.

Without a sympathetic tear does diversity slip from existence by the double-dozen each day.
With no alteration in global philosophy does the ocean expanse form the sludge of gelatinous plastic soup.
Not one single gram of pity is left for all life as the jungles and forests give way to barren desert.
The sewage and disgust all adding spice to the flavor of carbon passing over our tongues to our fragile innards.

In the wake of unpardonable mass manipulation, even the iconic have sunk beneath the waves of despair.
As their pockets become lined, mouths overflow with induced or imposed political refuse.
Leaders who fit snugly from the backside onto arms of puppeteers driven by insatiable consumption.
Corporate toxicity on a crusade to stamp out hope amid a world filled with corruption and fallacy.

We are dead slaves, enshrouded, entombed in a dreadful sense of seclusion and obedience.
The veil of isolation felled over us becomes an insufferably hellish and never-ending taunt.
For those who have eyes that peer through illusion can never rest, never cease.
Will the resurrection of purpose and love find its way back to my race before the last pathetic exhale?

Each day I pray to the one true universal father, please give my brothers and sisters the strength to fight.
I beg of you to arm them with the spirit to defend our mother, the great living sphere which cradles us.
I appeal to your charity, let the shroud of lies fall so that they may collectively witness what we already know.
For it is only truth that slaves can indeed revolt and reclaim in the name of honor.

By:Anthony Damanio

Copied with permission of the author from a post in
in the group "The Global Justice coalition" on facebook

https://www.facebook.com/groups/theglobaljusticecoalition/


This post was modified from its original form on 24 Nov, 14:57
3 years ago




Hush Little Sister

© Yerzinia
Hush, little sister
Please don't cry
I wish I could be there
To sing you a lullaby

I can see your arms
Bloodied and bruised
That's strange, little sister
Mine were like that too 


I know you scream
When Daddy's there
Hush, little sister
I know you're scared

I can see the way
He's hurting you
I'm sorry, little sister
He did that to me too

I know that people
Ignore what's going on at home
That makes me angry, little sister
You shouldn't have to be alone

Hey, little sister
You want to know why I'm not there?
It's a sad story, little sister
But people should care

You see, little sister
One day Daddy got high
You were asleep in your crib

So you didn't hear my cry

He screamed at me
And smashed my head against the door
While you slept, little sister
I died on the floor

You know, little sister
I don't think that I would have died
If someone had only bothered

To listen to my cries

But hush, little sister
Daddy's coming home
Quick, get into bed
You don't want him to find you alone

I'm sorry little sister
He's in a bad mood
Run while you can

Uh oh little sister
He's lifting his belt
Scream while you can, little sister
Call for help

Hush little sister
You don't need to cry
No one can hurt you
You're in my arms tonight.





This post was modified from its original form on 24 Nov, 21:52
3 years ago

Inside ~ Sex Slave ~

Inside are lies of a secret past
Of wounds that will never heal
Scars from years of pain
The person I try to hide
The girl no one ever see's
Inside are memories of a past I try to forget
Things no one would understand
Who would take the time to listen?
To understand how it's so hard to even smile
To keep my head up high and look for a brighter future
I'm someone no one can understand
I keep myself bottled up Inside

 

Copyright 2004 Danielle Heyboer

3 years ago

My Cry For Help ~ Sex Slave ~

Tears rush down my face as I hold the razor
My mind is filled with anger
My heart with guilt

* I make the first cut *

Blood slowly starts to flow
I call for help
No one answers
Beg for someone to stop me
Pray that it won't be too late

Someone please help me
I have no more control
It's too much to handle

Will you answer my cry for help?
Stop me from hurting myself?

Please help me before it's too late
Hear my call for help.

 

Copyright 2004 Danielle Heyboer
3 years ago

Thank you Vivien for that amazing poem you posted

3 years ago

Thank you Rose for the heart-touching poems you have posted.

3 years ago

->My FREEDOM<-

my Freedom, my Freedom
you saved me
you tore my chain
you detached the knots
you released my pain
you fixed the dots
thanks! thanks!

my Freedom, my Freedom
you’re my necklace
you’re my bracelet

my Freedom, my Freedom
I feel you, I think about you
you accompany me, you’re my Angel

my Freedom, my Freedom
I like to be your slave
your slavery makes me Brave

my Freedom, my Freedom
clearly you engrave
my responsibilities
precisely you surround
my extremities
my Freedom, my Freedom
you’re my massive concept
my imperative impulse

my Freedom, my Freedom
I respire you, you inspire me

{October 10,2009}

Glamorous Enigma
3 years ago

Thank you Rose we should all rejoice in our freedom as this poet does.

3 years ago

 I agree Vivien

3 years ago

Rape

A horrible crime
Rape.....loss of innocence
Rape.....didn't have a choice
Rape.....Nobody heard my voice
Rape.....memory of the past
Rape.....hope it crosses my mind
erases out of my memory
so i don't have to remember the past
i wish she didn't tell me to go
so I would still have it
my innocence i mean
I used to be so clean
now i'm violated, unclean and dirty
and the guilt is killing me
even though its not my fault
i feel as though it is
when she told me to go i could have refused and ran
I could have dropped the stuff at the door
and ran.....but no.....i chose to go in
and he accomplished his mission
what he set out to do
i was only 5 years old.....he was 18
i hated every minute of it
I closed my eyes and imagined I was invisible
but he took all the invisibility
inside of me and i still remember the day

the scene keeps playing in my head like a movie
Rape.....didn't have a choice
Rape.....nobody heard my voice.

 By Funmi Esuruoso
3 years ago

A Child Of Slavery

I am what I am no change comes to mind. To some am just an
Obstruction, a blunt object despised by all. I got my uses yet
None is noticed, hopes and dreams are trampled by passing
Commands. I am a child of slavery I toil on your commands.
A new day breaks morning dew awakens me, I must be in paradise
Yet a heavy burden weighs mi down, am too poor to raise ma hands,
I bow down to all. At times when alone during the silvery moon I
Picture my life different from what it is, and softly drift to
Sleep, this is my lullaby with out it I can’t push on. I seek for
Change yet I have no options my hearts too strong I can’t give up
, a child of slavery I fight to the end.

 BY Explic DVyne
2 years ago

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou


2 years ago

Patema Naem Haihambo, Namibia


Poem

Sex slave

In a world of technology,
Where its basic to dare.
I dared to search for love,
but left me bare.
My lids were bruised
by the hungry who stare.
Walking to a shelter,
wondering if they would care.

Change is not but wonderful,
"'t is not for a robot to love or lust,
oiled emotions.
Stay away from a desire, you must!"

My bare body I covered with cold steel hands,
Covered in shame as i heard their demands.

My life and will is not but theirs.

Let them touch, let them lust, let them have.
"your not a slave", but I must let them do whatever.


Am i a Victim?
I have no right, no will, no voice.
"What is done to you is not your choice"

They have turned me into a machine,


Nothing matters anymore.
What is here to even hope for?


2 years ago
The blessed curse

That dark day was a blessing

The blessing which was cursed

Silent wounds were inflicted

That could never be nursed

The day you were discovered

Your father was delighted

And your grandma too

Was never more excited..

I curse the machine till date

That told them you were my girl

They didn't want your rosy cheeks

And honey golden curls

Immortal Shame I carry in my heart

That I couldn't save you

My loved ones turned into beasts

I couldn't take the horrific rue..

It was painless laser

And In a minute you were dead..

I was numb and my ears burnt

"We will have a son now" your living father said

I miss you my child each and every day

And curse my own soul ,
Comments

2 years ago

Liberated

Liberated, I'm free from you
Liberated, bondage is through
Liberated, I'll speak my view
Liberated, life to pursue

Oh come and hear the news
I am now free to choose
There is no more abuse
Gone are the loathsome blues

Because I'm
Liberated, I'm free from you
Liberated, bondage is through
Liberated, I'll speak my view
Liberated, life to pursue

An end to oppression
Freedom of expression
There'll be no concession
Gone is the depression

Because I'm
Liberated, I'm free of you

Liberated, bondage is through
Liberated, I'll speak my view
Liberated, life to pursue




Udiah (witness to Yah) WRITTEN


2 years ago

This was actually an English assignment called 'Hate Song'. It is a reference to the book 1984, for those of you that have read it. If you have not, you need to! One of my favorites. I apologize in advance because you may not be able to comprehend the following words if you haven't read it.


my FREEDOM IS your SLAVERY
Your slavery is my freedom,
your chains are my key.
your ignorance is my kingdom,
your worship sets me free.
You're blinded to my sins,
you're deafened to my lies.
I've destroyed your trusty kin,
I've killed your family ties.
Your slavery is my freedom,
your binds are my excuse.
Your existence is my boredom,
your sacrifice cuts me loose.
You're mute to my crimes,
you're paralyzed to my beatings.
I've erased your historic times,
I've burned your private keepings.
Your slavery is my freedom,
your bruises are my smiles.
Your stupidity is my wisdom,

Your torture gains me miles.
You're unfazed by my war,
you're obedient to my laws.
I've murdered your fragile core,
I've perfected your many flaws.
My name is Big Brother,
and I am your King.
My name is Big Brother,
I demand you to sing.


Created by black1swan


1 week ago
The Slave Auction

By Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The sale began—young girls were there,   
   Defenseless in their wretchedness,
Whose stifled sobs of deep despair   
   Revealed their anguish and distress.

And mothers stood, with streaming eyes,
   And saw their dearest children sold;
Unheeded rose their bitter cries,
   While tyrants bartered them for gold.

And woman, with her love and truth—
   For these in sable forms may dwell—
Gazed on the husband of her youth,
   With anguish none may paint or tell.

And men, whose sole crime was their hue,
   The impress of their Maker’s hand,
And frail and shrinking children too,
   Were gathered in that mournful band.

Ye who have laid your loved to rest,
   And wept above their lifeless clay,
Know not the anguish of that breast,
   Whose loved are rudely torn away.

Ye may not know how desolate
   Are bosoms rudely forced to part,
And how a dull and heavy weight
   Will press the life-drops from the heart.
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Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (The Library of America, 1993)

1 week ago

Very moving thank you Rose