The Women’s March
They came with anger in their eyes
and hope in their hearts. Young and
old—from many cultures and many lives.
Many wore pink hats to signify rebellion.
Many carried signs in protest of their fears.
And I—swept along with the crowds—
found courage and generosity as I
made my way onto the metro and
through the streets to celebrate the wonder
of being fully female. On this enchanting
day, we understood we were all
sisters—common in our fight; determined
to be heard.
There were men who came
in solidarity
in support
with never-ending love.
After the speeches were over, we reached
for one another and we marched. . . .
“No limits for Women”
“No limits for Girls”
my group sang out—echoes of our strength
flew out to touch a stranger’s heart.
Perhaps the best part was listening . . .
helping women we never knew to feel safe
and share their stories. We asked them
for a moment to remember their dreams.
Sometimes they cried.
And I . . . my body pushed forward until
it begged me to stop. I had to listen.
I left the crowd—the bright red sash
across my chest:
“No limits for Women”
“No limits for Girls.”
The oncoming night moved softly
against the still-marching crowds.
We had found our sisters and our voice;
we could never again be silent.
Silver Spring, Maryland, USA
Reprinted from the e-mail discussion list for RC Community members
(Present Time 187, April 2017)