Planned Parenthood (Walking to the office)


They must think they’re doing the right thing,


Standing in front of those clinics

with their crucifixes and beads

praying to a God they may have been forced to believe in,

stopping every woman that dares

to step out of or into that place

because she needed birth control,

or was unsure if she’s ready for sex,

or ready to be a parent,

or if she was raped by an uncle or something.

They must think they are doing the right thing,

where they were only told to believe

and never dare to question.

I wonder what goes through their mind,

when a kid like me

says ’hi’ and offers them water 

because I know how hot it could be 

being told you are wrong and stupid

and staying in the sun where only a flimsy tree

is your source of shade,

the beams testing your loyalty to that faith.

I wonder if they would ever lose faith.

I wonder what they think when a woman walks out,

do they think if the situation they may be in,

or if she may work there and going on a coffee run,

or if it was a girl….

not ready to be a parent

and thinking of the situation that may have put her in there,

or if it was a woman

that can’t afford a child

or won’t love the child anyways,

or if it was their daughter,

that snuck out because she made a mistake

or she turned into a victim. 

I wonder what makes them happy,

their worries,

their weaknesses,

the troubles they hold in their eyes

to only transfer to into their hands 

into those beads I wish I knew the names of

but they look like Tasbihs

and the way I hold them.

I wonder what they do

when they are not outside of this Planned Parenthood.

They’re work, family, friends.

Do their friends know of this,

and judge them behind their back while their kneeling

outside the gates of that god-awful building they consider?

Do they consider this charity?

Spreading the word of God.

People hate them,

I’m told I’m supposed to hate them to.

Because of the views they have on women’s health

differs greatly from mine.

But is that a good reason?

To hate strangers I see every Saturday morning.

I like to believe they recognize me,

because I recognize them.

I say hello and offer them water as often as I can

but always turn it down.

I pray for them,

like I pray for others.

“Long life, prosperity, love, and happiness”

I pray to God, that they are happy.

Everyone deserves to have someone on their side.



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