An ode to the
Women’s March: 1/21/17
250,000 strong, we came.
We came on buses and trains,
bikes and motorized wheelchairs,
strollers and our own two feet
or in our mothers’ arms.
We came from the city and suburbs
from nearby states and the country.
We came with hand-painted signs—
signs of love and hope and tolerance,
signs of humor and grace and fervor.
We wore knit caps with ears
that bespoke our fears
and our strength, the safety
in our superior numbers.
We streamed down Washington,
Madison, Monroe, Adams,
filled Columbus Avenue
spilled out onto Jackson
and Van Buren—our past presidents
bearing witness to our peaceful assembling.
We said excuse me. We didn’t shove
or snarl or complain. We smiled,
complimented each other
on our placards and shirts and slogans,
posed with strangers for photos.
“The most violent city” in the country—
we left our bullets, our biases, our pain
at home. But we are not just Chicago.
We are not even only one state
in the union. We are America.
And we are staking our claim.