Metallic memories billow
silver flashes in staccato formation
one after another
recollections rise from exile
through rebellion’s scar,
petulant,
insistent,
pulsing through thought’s ruins.
Metallic memories dart like bullets
whizzing raw channels into
flesh left bleeding.
Nothing fuses any more.
Everything is dubious.
Latch onto me,
shield me from those churning metal blades.
Brenda Warren 2012
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
process notes
The Whistleblower is a film based on the experiences of a female cop from Nebraska. Kathryn Bolkovac served as a peacekeeper in post-war Bosnia, and uncovered a sex-trafficking ring involving international aid workers, police officers, and government officials. I watched the movie last night, and heard the phrase “whores of war.” These war whores are girls.
I wrote my piece for The Sunday Whirl this week before I titled it. After reading it, I thought of the girls trafficked in Bosnia, and other places in our world. In many cases, they are abducted, sold, and then told they must “work off the debt.” What will their lives be like if they “earn” their freedom? What will they think of at 50? Can they ever work through the memory of being chained, filmed, and violated by men in power? The Whistleblower is whirling those girls through my head, and will for some time. We are lucky to have the lives that we do.
undercaws 
Wow, Brenda, this is stunning. Kudos for taking on such a difficult subject and expressing it with such raw emotion.
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Break my heart… your words speak for these souls.
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Powerful writing, you used the wordle words to great effect.
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A tough subject written about with real poignancy Brenda – “shield me from those churning metal blades” sums up the horror with such urgency it’s terrifying. Well done.
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So many thoughts already shared here, could be echoed once again…
My favorite line: pulsing through thought’s ruins.
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Strong strong poem, Brenda. I wrote mine early even (on Saturday) and then forgot to link it. Thank goodness for a reminder from Mary (with her new dog).
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Powerful lines, these
Nothing fuses any more.
Everything is dubious.
Latch onto me,
shield me from those churning metal blades.
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Brenda, I liked the poem. Your process notes only made the poem stronger. I was first struck by “Nothing fuses any more. / Everything is dubious.” Powerful lines – such a contrast between nothing and everything. I’m haunted by “thought’s ruins” – such a powerful and sad image.
Richard
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powerful and sad words. Tragedy does breed more tragedies
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Strong words, Brenda. I am outraged too. I am late today, had almost decided not to write, but Pamela made me do it. LOL. (I acquired a new pup which is taking a lot of my time.)
http://inthecornerofmyeye.blogspot.com/2012/02/wordle-42.html
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Oh good, Mary. I’m back online and am glad you wrote. Hooray, too, for your new pup…time well spent and full of delight, no doubt.
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As ViV says. Your poems which I like best tend to be the ones you feel so strongly about that the speaker carries your emotion throughout. They do make for grim reading, but they should.
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Brenda, this is strong writing. The pain of the subject matter comes across vividly. I saw an HBO special some years ago about sex trafficking, and it was truly heartbreaking.
Pamela
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We call ourselves civillised beings and yet, we are so far from being civillised in so many ways. Nothing has changed since the beginning of time, sex sells. And many men (and some women) don’t care how they make their money, because it’s all about the money. Whereas the girls/women are scared for life in so very many ways.
Powerful write Brenda. Raw, brutal and, sad because it’s still happening to so many girls in so many places.
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I really like that second stanza.
You got to wonder sometimes if the urge to cruelty might be one of those things that comes with the big brain. Maybe not. But overcoming it is what makes civilization.
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Thanks Barbara. Interesting thoughts… Cruelty definitely has hold of some people. I like your statement on civilization.
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Pulsing through thoughts’ ruins…
Powerful piece… full of real tragedy.
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Tragic. You have left me enraged on their behalf.
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Wow, Brenda. This poem is so powerful, definitely leaves a lasting impression:
Metallic memories dart like bullets
whizzing raw channels into
flesh left bleeding.
http://lkharris-kolp.blogspot.com/2012/02/prowler.html
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Oooh the one image “latch onto me”…powerful and turns the tale in a different direction. A definite wow!
thank you for your poem and for “wordles”
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A horrendous story. I’m not surprised at the strength of emotion revealed in your poem.
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