by Lucy Hartley
The sun beats down on my back
Harsher than the fires of hell.
I cannot see my home anymore,
Only the steeple atop the hill.
A gun was found at school today-
A bullet in its chamber.
There is nowhere I am safe anymore,
Not at the steeple atop the hill.
I have a friend in chemistry,
Her belly filled with sin.
Nobody will take her baby anymore,
Because of the prison atop the hill.
She broke their laws,
As have I.
If we don't make bail,
We will fry.
How unrighteous of me
To miss
The wedding between the lord and my state.
I thought they were separated.
That is my mistake.
The preacher is in my classroom.
I stand for the morning prayer.
My salvation: the clang of bells.
The holy spirit invades my air.
How unrighteous of me
To want
My body to be my own.
I can’t refuse a man to look inside me
Within the walls of my own home.
My state legislators monopolize my womb.
Their shriveled hands claw at my skin.
They father my children but disappear
When the bill comes- I’m not their kin.
How unrighteous of me
To march
Alongside sinners like myself.
Peaceful riots, violent protests,
No right to ask for help.
Let my sisters be a spark,
Set fire to our oppression.
If they quiet out our voices,
They will hear our aggression.
About Lucy Hartley
Lucy Hartley is a junior at the South Carolina Governor’s School for Science and Mathematics, where Kathryn Vignone, Ph.D., is her English instructor. The daughter of Terry Jankowski and Patrick Hartley of Hanahan, Lucy plans to major in biology in college, focusing on forensic sciences, and minor in criminology.