Today, I am so very pleased to present our FIRST EVER guest poster, Grace Biskie! 
Grace is a passionate, big-dreaming extroverted communicator. Wifey to Dave & Mama of 2 little boys therefore working hard to memorize Thomas the Tank Engine’s vast friendship base. Grace likes to think she’s Joyce Meyer meets Halle Berry meets Anne Lammott…but she also knows she shouldn’t think more highly of herself than she ought. She is a writer, a speaker and a program coordinator for a Foundation serving high school students in NYC & Kalamazoo, MI. Grace is an essayist in the upcoming anthology, I Speak for Myself: 40 American Christian Women Under 40 addressing the topic of taboo. (Published by White Cloud Press, 2013). Also, she’s working on her first book, Detroit’s Daughter, a memoir about surviving her father, her brother, abuse, racism, Christians, boys, and poverty, while growing up in inner-city Detroit. She loves social networking, photography, fashion & swiss cake rolls. She hates horcruxes and human trafficking. You can follow her adventures in trying to lead a purposeful, grace-filled, beautiful life on her blog, Gabbing With Grace, or on Twitter.
The Rape of Humanity: A Sestina for an Escaped Sex Slave
By: Grace Biskie
The room was filthy and cockroach infested. 
Locked in a cage. Shocked with electrical wire. Whipped with metal cables until raw,
it all culminated in gang rape.
My mother sold me at 7. Twenty times a day my legs were pried open.
Burned with hot pokers forced to lie under the cover of biting insects was the torture
for a failed escape. I took my chances: fate would give me death or freedom.
There are 12 million of us, voiceless, desperate to be free.
But 32 billion reasons why selling our womanhood remains a global infestation.
Under 5, over 5, newborns, too. Over 20 is “too old” for this form of torture.
Our hearts our raw,
our bodies are sewn up, ripped apart, sewn up and again torn open
yet it’s our humanity that’s at stake; it too is subject to rape.
Soul ravaged but not raped,
I choose forgiveness to set me free.
Conserve my energy to prying freedom’s doors open
for those still caged, my desire for rescuing them upholding my heart from infestation.
Nightmares threaten to keep me raw,
but it’s my will that refuses to be subjected to a self imposed torture.
I look in her eyes and I see her torture
for the 5th time today, she’s been raped.
Every inch of her skin is raw.
She’s never been free.
She’s only 5. Her entire life has been infested.
It’s all she knows: “lay down. Shut up. Legs open.”
It’s all he knows: “lay down. Shut up. Legs open,”
Since he was 18 he’s been in the business of torture.
He doesn’t know his heart is hell bent on infestation.
He cares little for the 12 million who –today- will be raped.
He wants the control. Wallet open, he wants the power. He believes a good orgasm isn’t free.
He wants her young. He wants her raw.
Yet, they want to be “young”. They want to hope, but it’s too scary, much too raw.
They want to shut it down with a deafening shout: “NO! Business is NOT open!”
What they want is simple: set the captive free.
…a respite from torture.
…to heal from rape.
…hope to permeate humanity’s infestation.
Gently clasp the face of the young, raw woman to declare her freedom!
Open up your mind, your heart and your wallet too lest you unknowingly slip down the slippery slope of the indifference infestation…
…or you can power up the Macbook, watch your porn and ignore the torture of our dear sisters while our humanity is at stake. It’s nothing less than all of humanity being raped.
