Pink carnations bow their heads
as the past reveals what lies ahead
The woman dreams of justice
Her voice cuts like glass, clear and sharp with purpose
She was once a silent mist amidst the flames
but now you can't dismiss her
She'll make the proper preparations
Advocate for what is right
Put up a fight
Pack the posters and pocket her letters
while hair ribbons, white as winter trail her steps
It's cold, but she's ready for war
The woman sees heaven not as some distant gleam
but in the struggle and in the brutal question of why
so many voices are stifled, set to the side
The promised justice is worth the fight
One day women will own the night
And justice will bloom
I’ve heard countless stories of how young women are dismissed by doctors. They’re told they’re too young for mammograms or that insurance won’t cover them. They are told they definitely don’t have endometriosis, just tough it out. Or, when asking for a hysterectomy, they’re met by their doctors with, “You’ll change your mind,” or worse, “Let your husband decide.” This poem is about a young woman who refuses to accept these dismissals and fights for reproductive justice. I chose to give her long white hair bows as a symbol of her strength and individuality; it’s a visual image of her resilience. She advocates for women’s freedom to make choices about their own bodies, regardless of age, race, or any other barriers imposed by society. The letters and posters in the poem mirror her activism, whether through social media posts, handwritten letters, or spoken words, she is devoted in her pursuit for change. For her, heaven isn’t some abstract idea, but the reality of reproductive justice. It’s a world where women have full control over their own bodies and futures.
