I know what this means to women.
I understand what it means to those who hate.
I'm aware of the choices, we've been granted to make.
There are people courageously standing along the banks of the Missouri praying, too.
Today, I rise up in solemn silence—stillness stirring, from deep within.
My voice trailing off—subsiding to spirit, as it walks upon this earth plane in utter dismay.
Our bodies, lay paralyzed, stunned, berated, broken and battered in wake.
The children whose innocent eyes I gaze into—it's their lives now at stake.
We arrived at a place in time, where history en masse, again appears to represent the few.
But I know, with honest conviction, from the depths of my heart, that forgiveness and peace now reigns.
Blessed are those who are awake and participating here and now.
No matter the choice, the precipice of change, our altar—the pendulum of freedom sways.
Some might choose the self-righteous man and many may vote to support their self-serving sister's coup.
However, there's no ignoring the devastation, once done—our waking nightmare; the sorrowful, haunting cries of pain emanating from our planet's core.
Our speechless water, voiceless air and desecrated soil, we traipse upon, undue.
We are planetary stewards here and the only right action is just, in nature—to restore, replenish, banish and start anew.
Image credit: Štefan Štefančík, Unsplash