We all sit disparate group that we are
Uneasy silence suffocates the room
All there for the same purpose yet apart
Furtive glances and deliberate too
I feel as though I could explode of nerves
Spilling out across the cold gray floor tiles
Such a public heartless location this
Anonymous building with no real soul
Offering no respite no redemption
Convenient in location and purpose
By all that is holy I can't stand it
The dead silence has to break or I will
Knowledge of what I - what we - are doing
Compels me to speak to the other five
For we are six - six women in a room
Clutching each a small bundle our own clothes
Adornment abandoned wearing blue gowns
Incongruity reigns though shoes are on
Feet shuffle - toes tap - hair is fiddled with
And I introduce me first name only
We are all here for the same procedure
I have the audacity to address
The enormous elephant in our midst
Doing so with a bald raw honesty
That is so easy when in a small group
Of strangers I will likely never know
Or see again once this morning is done
They see and hear more of me than my friends
Carefully curated since a young child
Would recognize or find a comfort in
Most are single - one married one divorced
Ages range from eighteen to late thirties
Circumstances for today are murky
Messy sad tales that carry a thread of
Sameness and a shared inner turbulence
Each in the end recognizing resolve
Once decisions are made then time to act
Deeply personal so very private
Controversial action for many
Will we harbor shame and regret later
Several decades and many lifetimes
Ago six women made a choice to be
In that room on that day I survived
~ Ellen Apple 4/24/2016
This is one of the most personal, and most difficult, things I have ever written.
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