The Price We Pay

I promised to drive her.
What are friends for? But I was afraid.
A bomb, guns or hot headed demonstration,
violence to keep us from our destination.

Suddenly, people peer into the windows.
There are picket signs, looks of hate.
Some with pictures of butchered babies,
amazing the righteousness of faith.

Life can be brutal for soft skin.
So often targets of male rage.
Run, caught, a mouse in a trap.
Penance for freedom from her prison gate.

Dear friend, sits with her head down.
If only she could hold a warm body,
kiss, smell a sweet tiny head.
For her a future love is a huge leap of faith.

I am reminded of certain truths.
No one can know anothers pain.
Fearmongers really hate themselves.
It takes bold courage for this decision.

The strength of women amazes me.
They bear babies in the hardest of times,
keep the wolves from the door,
clean up the sick, close the eyes of the dead.