A Poem for Sex Worker Day
For those who walk the neon road, beneath the stare, beneath the weight, who learn the language of closed doors, of careful names, of choosing fate.
For those who know the world can judge what it has never tried to know, who carry laughter, fear, and art where hidden rivers have to flow.
May safety be a sacred shield. May dignity be fully seen. May every body be its own, not bought by shame, not stripped of dream.
For those who labor in the night, or daylight’s softer, quieter flame, may no one steal your human truth, may no one turn your work to blame.
You are not rumor. You are not sin. You are not shadow cast by men. You are a life, a pulse, a voice, a person choosing breath again.
So let the candles burn for care, for shelter, rights, and open hands. For all who work beneath the veil, may justice rise across the lands.
And may the world grow wise enough to look with mercy, not with stone, and honor every living soul as sovereign, sacred, and their own.
