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MARY McGILL In a clinic on Main Street in Washingtonville, Lost in thought by a window stood Mary McGill, When her eyes met the eyes of a woman outside. Was it rain on her glasses or tears she had cried? Outside on the picket line Rose Mary Flynn Felt the rain on her face and the anger within As she stared at the face inside, gentle and warm, That seemed almost to beckon her in from the storm. And the two women found themselves staring awhile -- Recognition, awareness, but never a smile -- And there seemed to be some kind of truce in that stare, Until Rose Mary Flynn recalled why she was there. The she held up her sign that said, "Thou shalt not kill," And she pointed directly at Mary McGill, And Mary McGill, before starting to turn, Gave a nod to acknowledge Rose Mary's concern. That day, Mary counseled a child named Michelle Who tried hard to seem calm in her personal hell. Mary spoke to Michelle with the tone of a friend, And her gentleness brought Michelle's calm to an end. Michelle told her story with pain hard to hide, Of her mother and John and the new life inside. She had meant to show love. She had meant no one harm, But her mother felt anger and John felt alarm. But the new life inside was a life. It was real, With a brain and a heartbeat she thought she could feel. And she wanted the child. She would love it so well. But she'd end the new life for her mother and John. "I'll do it," Michelle said, "for my mother and John." These words had an emptiness Mary saw through. "If you do it," said Mary, "please do it for you." Michelle only murmured the words, "I don't know," And she stood and she turned and she started to go, And Mary made one last request of Michelle With her parting words: "Take time to think this out well." That night, Michelle's mother stormed into the place, Not hiding her anger, yet hiding her face. "My daughter came here with a purpose," she said, "Not to have you put foolish ideas in her head. She's too young. She's a girl, and the father's a boy, And she thinks that a baby is some kind of toy. Your job was to teach her, to straighten her out, Not confuse her and send her home riddled with doubt." "My job," explained Mary, "was not to confuse, But to make her aware of her freedom to choose. My job is to make sure the options are known. You are right: she is young, but her life is her own. Then Mary saw something in this woman's face And remembered the person, the time, and the place. This woman had labeled abortion a sin. The face on the picket line, Rose Mary Flynn. People often accuse and are quick to condemn When the issue is safe and does not affect them. I don't envy the job facing Mary McGill. I don't know all the meanings of "Thou shalt not kill." It's a conflict more simply prevented than solved, But the choice must belong to the woman involved, And I think that the answers come not from above, But from us and our consciences, tempered with love. From the singing of Kim Wallach. @abortion filename[ MARMCGIL RR Feb07 |
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