Beth Lichter
At least it's not so hot today. I watch the shadow of the giant oak across the street stretch out over Planned Parenthood's front yard. It inches towards the building as the clock slowly moves from six to seven in the early evening; it sneaks past the iron fence, creeping stealthily up the brick wall...like our prayers. They wrap the building, thousands upon thousands of Hail Marys, maybe not penetrating the brick, but surrounding it. Someday, they will get in.
Whiiiirrrrriiiii whiiirrriiii a Christ Hospital ambulance rattles by, sirens blaring. A police car follows close behind him, and somewhere across Clifton, I can hear another chase fading away. Another day on Auburn Avenue.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...
"Give me my right to choose!" the counter-protester shouts, his voice high pitched above the street noise. Cars slowly pull in and out of the gated driveway, not even glancing our way. The murmur continues.
...blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...
The kids on the sidewalk are laughing, giggling like kids in summertime do, flip-flopping down the cement behind us. Their puppy, sniffing at these strange, still people on the sidewalk, makes me smile.
Kids who had a chance. Kids who survived what is the last, most dangerous place for almost 3,700 American children every day - their mother's womb.
Holy Mary, Mother of God ...
Holy Mother, please, please change these people's minds, can't you see we're begging you? Rosary after Rosary? Pleading for your littlest ones? snap-snap-crackle-snap the squirrel in the tree across the street runs up a branch, making the shadows shake on the brick wall. An unusual quiet settles on the street as rush hour winds down.
...pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...
hhhhhoOOOONNNKK! A giant truck makes us jump as he responds to our 'Honk for Life' sign, right in our ears. It's a welcome sound, but it takes a few heartbeats to start breathing normally again.
... Amen.
At least it's not so hot today. I watch the shadow of the giant oak across the street stretch out over Planned Parenthood's front yard. It inches towards the building as the clock slowly moves from six to seven in the early evening; it sneaks past the iron fence, creeping stealthily up the brick wall...like our prayers. They wrap the building, thousands upon thousands of Hail Marys, maybe not penetrating the brick, but surrounding it. Someday, they will get in.
Whiiiirrrrriiiii whiiirrriiii a Christ Hospital ambulance rattles by, sirens blaring. A police car follows close behind him, and somewhere across Clifton, I can hear another chase fading away. Another day on Auburn Avenue.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...
"Give me my right to choose!" the counter-protester shouts, his voice high pitched above the street noise. Cars slowly pull in and out of the gated driveway, not even glancing our way. The murmur continues.
...blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...
The kids on the sidewalk are laughing, giggling like kids in summertime do, flip-flopping down the cement behind us. Their puppy, sniffing at these strange, still people on the sidewalk, makes me smile.
Kids who had a chance. Kids who survived what is the last, most dangerous place for almost 3,700 American children every day - their mother's womb.
Holy Mary, Mother of God ...
Holy Mother, please, please change these people's minds, can't you see we're begging you? Rosary after Rosary? Pleading for your littlest ones? snap-snap-crackle-snap the squirrel in the tree across the street runs up a branch, making the shadows shake on the brick wall. An unusual quiet settles on the street as rush hour winds down.
...pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...
hhhhhoOOOONNNKK! A giant truck makes us jump as he responds to our 'Honk for Life' sign, right in our ears. It's a welcome sound, but it takes a few heartbeats to start breathing normally again.
... Amen.