A poem I received from a past sexual assault counsellor. I found it today.
Sometimes life seems to fall apart
A little at a time,
And we want to fold up our dreams
And put them away,
Then from somewhere inside,
There comes a song of courage,
And we know we can never give up.
Hope is that song we sing
Although it may be difficult to hear,
It is always there for us,
Deep within our hearts.
Last night I went to a lecture on narcotics and prostitution.
It was a very eye-opening lecture.
What was really disappointing to me was, everyone was concerned what the government or police or other social agencies were doing to help this at-risk group. Not one was concerned about what the individual was doing for themselves. People think that people like this don’t want help. They do.
I asked a question in relation to the story told by a young woman who left the “work.” This question was: what can be done in the short term?
The answer: You cant do anything (not verbatim).
In the young lady’s story, there were periods where she would be clean for 30 days and it sounded like there was a bit of hope she had for herself. Then, she would fall back into the old habit of drugs and prostitution.
This hope, no matter how big or small, is what needs attention.
Currently there are 240 prostitutes in London. In 2005, there were 48. Since then, 10 have died and 17 have exited.
I wonder how many of those women are Aboriginal?