Poem for My Daughter on the Morning of the Women’s March by Jessica Helen Lopez

A celebration poem for ourselves


Today we are a massive sky, a painted canvas of wet cloud and cyclical rain,

Frost, hot breath pluming like heaving volcanic ash. Smolder. Shoulder to

shoulder we are here.


Today my daughter, you ran the comb through the long strands of your hair

and it became a river before my eyes.  The black of it, a burning onyx.


Your eyelashes fettered, a spider’s diaphanous touch

ready to weave our story. We are all perching

on the mouth of this great chasm,

a powerful taught and silver wire.


Web, roar, ladies of wild creatures.


Let us be incandescent.  Let us radiate in our power, palpitate with a common

strength and bond.


Let our hearts be of cedar and pine. The fecundity of the earth after the rain.


Let it be sermon.

Let it be song.


Daughter you took flight from my bones, grew wings and were of me;

And I of you.


We who were born of cosmos and stardust, born

with a light in our chest, a heated lung and lamp of the firmament


And she is I and I am she.  And they are all of me. And we are all of you.


Which is to say, we germinate as the seed does. Golden kernel

and sweet everlasting water


We the non-violent and unconditional love of the mother, the

child woven from a tapestry of stars.


Today, Daughter we march on and on and on. Shoulder to shoulder.


Million women strong!

This choir of voices rising like a rose-colored dawn.


We are the holler and whistle, Justicia! Justicia! Justicia!


A smoldering flicker

ready to catch the flame.