I was thinking this evening about the pro-life campaigns in which I’ve taken part, and decided to share a memory with you, straight from my heart. But sometimes when I mean to write prose–why, only heaven knows–what comes out is in verse. That’s what happened tonight, so here’s what I wrote, for better or worse.
At the Abortuary
On a cold gray day in February,
I stand in the rain at the abortuary
And pray as a car pulls into the drive,
And watch the first client (not patient) arrive;
Watch the workers rush out the front door,
Watch them hurry to surround her before
She can read the words on the sign that I hold,
Or hear the words of the truth that longs to be told.
The voices of those who now surround her
Seek not to help but to truly confound her.
Oh, Lord, forgive them, they know not what they do.
As unto the least of these—O, Lord, they know not!—
So do they unto You!
—Disciple, Jan 21, 2011.
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