This poem was inspired by all the children—especially my baby daughter—whose little feet will walk, run, jump, dance, and march.

We march for tzedek,
compelled to pursue
the “justice for all”
that’s long overdue.

We march for our mothers,
Our courageous ancestors.
We honor the Miriams,
Dinahs, and Esthers.

We march for the ill
and reject the repeal
of a chance at refuah shleima
and to heal.

We march for the life
of the Jew and the stranger,
and pledge to protect
our neighbors from danger.

We march for a world
that feels shattered and broken,
to defend the oppressed
and hear their words spoken.

We march for the earth,
its oceans and trees,
a sweet new year
full of apples—and bees.

We march for Harvey
and Dr. King’s dream,
and all bodies made
b’tzelem elohim.

We march for the right
to choose our own fate,
a derech where love
always trumps hate.

We march for truth
and its innermost parts,
to resist all Pharaohs
with cold, hardened hearts.

We march for today,
but our work does not cease;
each day we will build
up our shelter of peace.

We march for the future—
the next generation.
l’dor v’dor,
they’ll inherit this nation.

We march as Americans,
parents, and Jews.
United we win;
divided we lose.

We march to witness
how people turn sorrow,
into actions ensuring
a better tomorrow.

We march for our families,
the ones we hold dear.
The bridge is narrow,
but we have no fear.

We march for you,
our joy and our light.
We’ll fight with our spirit.
Our power.
Our might.

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