A crowd of people so big each person looked like a piece of grass on a football field

I don’t see the point of having so many people march if we are all the same

The same pink hats with cat ears. The same signs with the same phrases.

But then I see a 91 year old woman and a baby no more than 10 months both marching

Walking or being carried doesn’t matter

Because they are there

The baby will hear stories about it, The old woman will tell stories about it

She will tell her kids about climbing up onto a pile of wood

With 20 year olds and holding a sign unaware of the words written on it

How she led a chant saying

“Tell me what a feminist looks like, this is what a feminist looks like!”

How when she saw her sign she yelled “my kids will love this!”

How she marched for hours in hope a change would be made.

The baby will hear stories about the sign she made

How she scribbled with markers on a piece of cardboard

The meaning unclear to her parents, to the world

But to her it was clear that the scribbles meant so much

And how she didn’t cry the whole time

And how she was carried for hours with no breaks

And how she got her picture taken by so many people

Wanting to document why they marched and why she marched

Scribbles on a piece of cardboard were her way of hoping a change would be made.