by Erica Hunckler

Artist: Yulia Litvinov

At ten weeks
I have ten fingers
And ten toes.
I have two eyes,
Two ears,
One mouth,
And one nose.
I have a beating heart
That will continue to grow,
With love for you,
And the world I have yet to know.

This body of mine-
Yes- it is my own. Uniquely made,
By God, I was sewn
Into my mother’s womb
So, let it be known:

I was made
In the Image of God, The only One
Who sits on the throne.

With Him reside the Angels, Saints, and souls,
Who lost their lives,
As they were torn,

Part from whole.

Let us not forget,
The parents filled with regret, And their need to be consoled.
No rally, protest, or political poll Can prepare a mother or a father, For the toll,
That abortion takes,
On their immortal soul.

To those who know
Of the lies that spread:
Share the truth with them instead.

No woman needs abortion,
To be a woman of ambition.
It is through this detestable invention,
That misogyny continues to be written, In our laws and in the hearts,
And in the minds
Of young gentlemen.

There is a popular pro-choice claim:
“Old white men are those to blame.”

With tongue in cheek
I say this is true,
For the justices in favor,
Of a woman’s “right to choose”

Nine justices
On the bench.
Nine white justices
Were appointed,
So they went.
To fulfill their duty,
Regardless of by whom they were sent.
Nine white male justices
And just two of them would

From this decision came, Legalization
Of an incorporation
That inflicts pain.

I prefer to use their name,
Because Planned Parenthood,
Is seemingly unashamed.
Spreading lies for personal gain.
Exploiting women to boost their fame.
Stand up! Be not afraid!
Our bodies are not Planned Parenthood’s domain.

They prey on the marginalized, Marketing specifically in their location,
Establishing their disservice
With countless health violations.
Did someone forget to mention? Racism is their foundation-

Abortion’s minority is Caucasian.

48 years pass.
Generations are heartbroken Alas, hearts burst into shards Like a pile of shattered glass, Because the deafening silence, Of aborted children en masse, Thunders in the hearts
Made of glass.

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