When registering for the Women’s March on Washington, it asked me why I was marching. I’m not sure if I am done with this yet but in honor of the march this weekend, here it is.

marching
I am marching 
to stand up and be counted. 

to not let those men
in the halls of influence
rest easy,
and sit back in comfortable armchairs

because we’re coming for you.
 
feel the ground already shaking
the air already shimmering
with our shriek
 
Reminding them
that there are barbarians
at the gates.
Yes, Sheroes and rebels
and warriors. 
 
We tell the world
a history, a future
that we don’t go down quietly or forgotten
and watch our dreams go quietly 
 
We did not loosen our grasp,
frozen, observing them
sinking below cold deep waters

burning the world, watching them
curl into ash and blow
across nothing but sooty plains.
 
 
I am marching 
to tell the ones with all those zeros
at the ends of their names
that 1 is still 1
that 1 + 1 is still 2.
 
one person, one family, 
one klan, one kind
or even just: one
and their sumptuousness
and their supremacy
and their sense of ‘security’
are still just one
not worth more than one life
not worth any other.

In fact
I owe a debt to those trampled, 
and to those who are yet to be
thrown under the wheels.
With no justice 
there is no peace.
And we choose liberty over death.
And I choose liberty for them.

I’ll carry any absent women
with me in my footsteps
as best I can
 
Because wherever two or three gather, 
there am I.

For better or for worse,
til death do us part
I am this land.
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