National Day of Appreciation for Abortion Providers
Wednesday March 10, 2004
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Here the zealots come to our clinics
With superglue and bibles
Cement trucks and songs
Pick-axes and police protection
Fake fetus photos and real guns
They won't deter our Heroes
Committed abortion providers
Steadfast in their work
Without which there would be no Choice
Today I bring them flowers
Offer my hands in service
Raise my voice to honor them and
Thank Pro-choice Heroes again and again
this is how I pray
bouquets of flowers on clinic counters
with a card of thanks that reads
No Apologies, No Regrets
this is how I rise
with my pen aimed at policy-makers
women make good decisions which aging white men should respect
this is how I stand
hold ground
stand silent strong against "sidewalk counsel"
this is how I vote
boycotting businesses that fund Religious Right
this is how I march
shoulder to shoulder with staff who work the front lines
this is how I love
holding the struggle sweetly
embracing our future
this is how I sing
shouting down the anti-choicers
punch through pickets scream through their lies
be the voice they cannot deny
on the tenth of March
do what must be done
light candles for doctors and workers slain
lift voices to honor those who've taken the reins
today we celebrate
the gavel that gave all
women
life after semen.
hangers wielded by fuckups
replaced by
soft heels in stirrups,
skinny metal arms with
blue hands cupped
like someone
giving up
ours were locked in a
deathgrip
knuckles white,
pulling against
the inevitable, unforgivable,
vacuum of womens' rights.
the debate never states
that no woman
wants life sucked out of her.
let me repeat that.
no woman wants life sucked
out of her.
everything changed that
second
(for the medical
record:
have you ever been
pregnant?
check one, miss:
miscarriage,
carriage to term,
or termination?)
one check
to explain how my
life unfolded
those few weeks with
the blood, the pulse who
drowned in cautious water
my evaporated
tidal wave of desire
how can being
in control
feel so uncontrollable?
we suckled each other
until our lips were chapped,
my uterus sapped,
being trapped in a culture
where the liberated say:
how awful (irresponsible)
and the repressors whisper:
murder by mother
(incomprehensible)
and I grieve
for love
and my lover
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