For women, for peace and freedom and justice,
a hundred seventy five thousand strong in Boston,
joined in umbilical hope with millions more, we marched.
We marched to say we won't look away from injustice,
to say we will not exclude or demean anyone, that justice is for all.
We marched to pledge ourselves to live gently but out loud,
to live with love and reverence, to heal and bless,
to include the outcast and lift up the downtrodden,
to speak truth, to work for justice and to be people of peace.
We marched in resolute hope, not anger.
We marched in wonder and gratitude for the power God gives us
to resist evil, to love our neighbor and heal the world.
We marched to surround ourselves with joy, beauty and hope.
It was not a protest; it was an affirmation.
Too far from the stage to see or hear, we cheered for the cheering.
Packed like crayons in a box, unable to move, no one became inpatient.
Calm, positive and kind, we simply basked in creativity and good will,
and enjoyed our diversity, unity and comradeship.
Yet underneath the happiness was a fierce resolve and resilience.
There was a clear knowledge that we are facing a great evil.
And there was awareness of our indomitable strength:
that we are given power to resist evil. It was the Reign of God.
Now we know. We are awake. We are not alone.
We have each other. We have hope. We have power.
From this day on you can wear a pink knitted hat.
You can carry a sign. Or you can be a sign, a sign God carries into the world,
a sign of justice and freedom and healing.
Your life can be a joyful affirmation that even among fearful forces God is at work. We are not alone.
In your vast crowd, in your little parade of one,
we are together in this.
Don't be afraid. Don't give up.