Member Poem

It's hard to play nice,
when you're up against the vice.
Kind words are not heard,
as they only spit venom towards our herd.

They do not care of the despair,
the hatred or the glares. 
They do not care of the hopeless,
the traumatize or the scared. 
They do not care of the abuse,
the neglect, the maltreated.
They do not care of the deaths,
of the women and of the children.

With golden stats in maternal mortality, 
and silver stats in infant deaths.
The one thing you cling to,
will surely be your demise.
To save the baby, you say,
that baby has a life! 

When, yes, you're right! 
That "baby" does have a life,
a life of nuclei working hard to make a cell,
a life of cells working hard to make the organs,
the tissues, the eyes.
All of those, which when complete and combined.
Make 1 beautiful, precious human being, a baby.
Oh my! 

1 beautiful, precious living child,
born into a family of poverty.
A family where, when things get bad,
you hide.
A family where, the child is at the mercy of their caregiver.
Their caregiver who was refused the right,
to decide if this was the right time to sacrifice. 

But in the end, Indiana,
you're already among the highest.
The highest of states that sacrifices the life. 

The life of those beautiful, precious, living beings,
and their mothers alike.
The life and the liberty of our women,
and the freedom of religion for all. 

Indiana, you won't win the fight.