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Image by Judy Gibson

Written By: Brenda Rivera

This page is dedicated to my sister Annette and to every RA* survivor throughout the corridors of time past, present and future survivors and victims alike.

To all those who died, whose face the world refuses to see or even acknowledge your horrors and torments by human and demonic hands, WE REMEMBER YOU ALL. You lived and were alive and countless beautiful lives so cruelly taken now stand in Eternity’s hands of Jesus Christ.

To every RA baby murdered, whether in the womb or out of the womb, YOU ARE REMEMBERED.

To every RA child, teen and adult murdered, YOU ARE REMEMBERED.

For every RA survivor who “survived” Hell’s secret forced upon us and for many, who still must contend with perpetrators of every walk and level within Satan’s servitude throughout their lives, suffering unbelievable rejection, despair, invisibility, denial, cult harassment and ongoing torture in forced rituals. Rituals that fractured minds, bodies, souls and spirit, whom the world, both Satanist and Saint alike try relentlessly to oppress, suppress, come against and cast away “the least of these” (Matt 25), YOU ARE REMEMBERED and YOU ARE BELIEVED, LOVED AND WANTED.

Though all the world comes against us, both in the natural and supernatural realms, Jesus Christ of the Bible is our Advocate. For He has never done to us what these others have done and continue to do. He was an outcast, rejected, despised and put to shame and died in a horrific ritual killing, to destroy the works of the devil and to set captives free. HE REMEMBERS US ALL.

The word of God places such emphasis on “remembering” that it is mentioned 148 times in the KJV. From Genesis 8:1, “And God remembered Noah and every living thing…” to Psalm 103:2, “Bless the LORD, O my soul, And forget none of His benefits;” and 1 Samuel 12:24, “You must honor the Lord and truly serve him with all your heart. Remember the wonderful things he did for you,” and much more. God REMEMBERS and believes us in spite of all that the world has done to us and continues to do against us.

This page is dedicated to you ALL and though the gates of Hell come against us, it will not prevail for good Jesus has already broken down Satan’s lies. You are His Beloved and He knows your names, and He will never let us go or cast us away like the world has repeatedly done.

This poem is in memory of my sister Annette. I long for the day to see her again. In the pain and anguish of her loss, comes this poem.

The Pendulum Swing - A Sonnet of Death
By: Brenda Rivera
© 2009

In the pendulum of time and death, enduring countless torments beyond time and space, I still live.

Forced to exist in the realm called Earth, not alive, not dead, but molded between them both.

I’m forced to feel, breath, touch and taste in this kingdom, yet all without knowing feeling, breathing, touching, or tasting, ever longing, never knowing.

Caught between awake and dreaming, Lost among knowing and unknowing, conscious and unconscious, this perpetual horror, this death dance we are forced to perform endlessly.

It’s only when this pendulum swings and then lingers to either side of life or death, do we, for a moment, touch the impossibility known as belonging.

Today it is death where the pendulum slows.  Unfolding the familiar wanting of belonging to the forgotten, invisible souls, the cries of death, a song of darkness which pulls within me.

I taste, feel, touch and breathe death’s sweet promise of closure, of tombstones, of quiet wooded stillness, of the ending place of Earth’s hold and the starting place of promised solitude.

It is here I long to be, among those whose once shredded tormented bodies stripped of life, are now made food for hell, to now sleep in dark eternity.

It is here I cry for thee my sweet sister.  Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.  We were two in one womb, now it’s only the one who is left to dwell in Earth’s plane.  Alone am I, are we, longing to see into your eyes of blue and your hair of raven night once again.

Death came to us both that evil night of demonic worship, when blood was spilled for those who believe they rule the heavens.  Yet it was only I who walked away from the blood soaked altar and you who remained lifeless upon it as evil was glorified in the blackest of ways.

No more would I see your beautiful face, no more would I see mine.  Your spirit now released from hell’s chambers and free from its dark touch.

I alone look for you in this sonnet of death, longing desperately to touch you, hold you and be with you in eternity’s splendor.  Only then will I, we, finally touch once again. Only then will this pendulum of death finally end its swing for me, and I will be free and see your beauty, your face, my haunted one forever more.

The following poem is written in honor of all the victims and survivors alike, throughout the history of time, who have been through the horrors of ritual abuse and have become the invisible holocaust of souls. Their voices have been silenced for too long. My prayer is that those who read this will gain an understanding of what survivors have been through and will walk with survivors as they share the love of Christ in action.

Scriptures of the Despised
By: Brenda Rivera
© 2009

In the tender moments before your first breathe went forth in life, a terror of darkness was thrust upon your pure soul, thus making your first breathe your last breath.  Now a memory of the no more, dwelling in the landscape of the invisible forgotten.  A secret haunted place filled with endless souls given over to that which is called Baal, Moloch, Lucifer, Satan, the first Liar and Murderer of all.  Whose cup continuously overflows with the blood of countless souls, stolen lives violently taken from thousands of generations of old and of new. 

Who cries for these beautiful ones who now have become food and dark pleasure for the wicked?  Who hears their silent cries or dares to reach out to expose the blackened hands of the darkest of sorceries?  Where are the hands, the heart, the feet, the voice, the courage of those whose King is called Jesus, the Blessed Son of the only true God?  Where is your light that is to penetrate into the darkest of places?  Where is the favor, the salt to season the heart of those most desperately needing its life-giving power?  Why is the true Royal Priesthood and generation of Light ignoring the anguish of the "least of these," becoming Judas' by betraying innocent blood or choosing the life of Esau, selling his birthright for food, convenience, safety, self-indulgence and apathy instead of taking up their cross as commanded?  Why is the church calling God a liar by denying such atrocities, choosing to believe the world and its no-god Satan that such abominable acts of horror, done both openly and in secret, no longer happens?  Who cries for these beautiful ones? 

Choosing to believe in the greatness of their modernization and evolving enlightenment, yet you cannot escape nor stop your Accuser who stands against you, Heaven’s Son.  Jesus has revealed your illogical logic, rationalization and the very denial you stand on as a lie.  The God of glory calls you liars and deceptive workers of darkness like their fathers before them.  Antiquity is filled with blood rituals openly done in "honor" to these no-gods by countless humans to fulfill their own blood lust and human fears.  Your altars, groves, shrines, hidden lairs, dark mysteries, realities of yesterday, today and of tomorrow still destroy all that is called pure within these dens of darkness.  You, O fallen angel, who said in your heart, you will ascend to heaven; to raise your throne above the stars of God, making yourself like the Most High.  Leaving in your madness, a legacy of countless victims of this impossible and incensed quest continues to fill the land with blood.

Lies of divinity, dark powers, unholy treasures, noble titles and crowns, all obtained by liars who dance the seductive dance of Dionysius or the mystical tunes of Pan.  Children of darkness, hiding what they truly are and their real purpose, driven towards dark illumination apart from the only true Light of the world.  These cursed ones, who for Hell’s sake take that which do not belong to them.  For blood is the price they are willing pay to enter the labyrinth of Satan’s power and gladly feast upon the flesh of the innocent, right in the midst of the great congregations of God.

So who cries for these beautiful ones who now have become food and dark pleasure for the wicked?  Who hears their silent cries or dares to reach out to expose the blackened hands of the darkest of sorceries?  Where are the hands, the heart, the feet, the voice, the courage of those whose King is called Jesus, the Blessed Son of the only true God?  Where is your light that is to penetrate into the darkest of places?  Where is the favor, the salt to season the heart of those most desperately needing its life giving power?  Why is the true Royal Priesthood and generation of Light ignoring the anguish of the "least of these?"  Why have you sold these victims of horror and cast us all away?  Is the price of rejection, denial, power, protection and a safe life still 30 pieces of silver?  Who cries for the invisible forgotten?  Will you?