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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.

Laurie Summers

Silver Spring, Maryland, USA

Reprinted from the e-mail discussion list for RC Community members

(Present Time 187, April 2017)

Last modified: 2020-07-17 20:50:52+00