The Language of Irony and Tragedy

I woke up this morning to a picture of some ladies holding a bright pink sign which read LONG LIVE ROE V WADE.

And I thought–long live?

Then the WSJ wrote, in its explication of the situation, “Roe and its progeny…”

Could this be an accident? Could the ladies in their vagina cloches and the explicators at the WSJ both be blissfully unaware that the language of living and progeny is exactly what the unstoppable machine of Roe v. Wade has made untenable?

We have lost so many children through this law and its wake of carnage. There is nothing about Roe v. Wade which brings life or encourages progeny.

After all these years, let us at least make our language precise and appropriate when we talk about our deliberate legacy of death.

When you and I were unborn

An image has been taken, carefully constructed–a smiling woman with her small child, a pink placard, and a message of support for the categorical destruction of babies remarkably similar to her own.

When I was younger the rhetoric surrounding the clinical extermination of humans before the age of birth was careful, reluctant, almost sheepish or apologetic. Famous among these voices was Hillary Clinton who said that the aim of promoting legal abortion was to make it, “…rare”

When I was younger “the unborn” were called babies by those on both sides of the argument.

When I was unborn, abortion was illegal.

Not now.

Now there is a veritable cacophony of irate institutions and voices–democratic presidential hopefuls, movie streaming services, (ironically) the Disney company, a long list of celebrities, and that smiling lady with her baby on the grass

All bent upon promoting and facilitating medical murder.

And with each carefully posed picture, each premeditated exclamation of outrage they push down the simple facts–we have laws in this country which promote and facilitate the brutal, violent, dehumanizing murder of millions of people.

People who would one day watch Disney movies

People who might subscribe to Netflix

People who would argue unequivocally for their own right to life

If they were allowed to live long enough to

Sing

where have all the flowers gone?

Our children all

Gone.

Poem

Poem”

would be a 

Beautiful name for a child

The kind of child 

You must imagine with

Ringlet curls,

Head bent over a book 

Or just the small legs dangling

From an open-armed tree

We forget that the word itself means

Create

Like fiction or the epic 

Story of lost children

We created, engendered, if you will

Then destroyed 

Through shear absence

Of imagination 

This Generation of Women and abortion

I am astounded by some women. I have yet to hear an abortion story that did not involve pressure to abort, yet here come the vigilante cowgirls advocating celibacy to pressure the menfolk to let you kill your own babies? Medea would be impressed. Darwin maybe? Jesus not so much.

First, let me make it clear–if you are a pro-choice filly in the state of Texas I absolutely agree-you should definitely go with the celibacy protest.

Last time I checked celibacy was the safest way to not get yourself pregnant. So good work girls. Good thinking!! No sex! No gestation! No abortion!

But here is the deal–all the women in the great state of Texas and in the United States today of child bearing age are alive despite Roe v. Wade. Each one of us could have been an abortion. And some of us survived them.

There are hundreds of women who share the heartbreaking reality of being abortion survivors. They lived despite their mothers’ intentions to kill them.

Look them up. Hear their voices.

And the post-menopausal? Shame on you all, you old fools. Don’t tell me how we should all “make some noise” to kill our children and their children.

You gave us Roe v. Wade. You decimated our kindergarten classes, our playmates. You have indeed had your say, old girls.

And I, for one, am ashamed of your bloodied hands and shameless talk.

Too blind to see it is we ourselves who are dying.