Perusing through my first abortion notebook this prime of summer day, I found several saved copies of The Right to Life by Marge Piercy. I may have posted this poem in the past. In fact, if I have not, then I am surprised, and I work in abortion care so nothing much surprises me. This poem is timeless, and I find solace in poetry because while hard facts may not change the minds of opposition to our noble truth, the art of experience eventually will.
Right to Life
A woman is not a pear tree
thrusting her fruit in mindless fecundity
into the world. Even pear trees bear
heavily in one year and rest and grow the next.
An orchid gone wild drops few warm rotting
fruit in the grass but the trees stretch
high and wiry gifting the birds forty
feet up among inch long thorns
broken atavistically from the smooth wood.