The Acorn

by Shelly Blankman


A small college weekly with Goliath goals. The Acorn,
mimeographed on leftover stock of yellow paper, its print
the color of mud, its content the acorns of awareness that 
would grow into oaks of actions to change the world.


The Acorn stayed buried, except for campus news and movie reviews –
until a short piece on abortion. Strangers became confidantes as secrets 
of shame, pain, and desperation began to emerge in tides of tears.
Razor-sharp wounds from family rejection still open. Rape victims


still reeling from experiences in underground efforts to abort
their babies in dark places, where instruments were few, infections
were frequent and only the dying could go to the hospital. I think
about those women today – 50 years later. Do their emotional scabs


still bleed? Were they left sterile? Did they ever marry? Have children?
Sheets drenched in sweat from fear and pain don’t dry with time. What
happens when new laws turn back time? Women are fighting new battles 
with old white judges using gavels as weapons. They can crush an acorn


but they cannot crush an oak. Women will continue to fight like hell to make
this right. Axes dull over time. Women have sharpened their words in protest.
Over five decades later, women are still oaks. Honed gavels cannot hew 
the power of women to protect ourselves. We will stand together.


* * * * *

Shelly Blankman lives in Columbia, Maryland with her husband of 43 years. They have two sons, Richard and Joshua, who live in New York and Texas, respectively. They have filled their empty nest with four rescue cats and a dog. Richard and Joshua surprised Shelly with the publication of her first book of poetry, Pumpkinhead. Her poems have appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, Verse-Virtual, Muddy River Poetry Review, and Open Door Magazine, among others.