Punching Ghosts

There are nights when I walk through darkness. 

Circled by leering, slow-driving johns, 

on the receiving end of insults and objects 

hurled by fast-driving passersby, 

listening to my "sisters" speak of their longing 

for hope, safety, freedom, peace, love, security, and value.

I walk, fighting tooth and nail, 

against the pervasive and perverse spirits

 of addiction and lust, 

of greed and control,

 of prostitution and poverty,

of slavery. 

And there in the dark, 

I feel like I'm throwing punches at ghosts. 

I find myself wishing for a visible opponent, 

instead of the spirits of the age. 

I want to rage against a man, 

against a system, 

against the bondage; 

and find myself flailing against the air. 

And there in my frustration, my anger,

 my tiredness, and my brokenness, 

I find my real fight 

and the 

ONE 

who is fighting it for me.  

For my fists may be flailing the air

but my prayers,

my prayers are arrows.

They are arrows of the Lord's victory.

They are powerful and effective,

hitting their targets.

There I remember that

He is the ONE who breaks off bondage.

He is the ONE who sets captives free.

He is the ONE punching ghosts for me.