Her fingers must have trembled
with anger and some anxiety,
or perhaps it was with calm assurance
in the rightness of her cause
that a woman I will never know
picked up the phone and called my home
after reading what would be the last
Letter to the Editor I’d write on
the topic of abortion. I cannot
recall specifics, the call was short
and terse, and many years ago,
but she let me know a thing or two.
Who knows what hidden hurt my
pointed prose and righteous pose
had caused to bleed again.
I will not cannot retract the thrust
of what I had to say, yet it seems fitting
that the windmill of woman’s rage
would topple this knight errant from
the high horse where he was sitting.
© 2013 David A. Welch