I live my life through the words I write
The cycle begins again.
The pain, the blood, manifests
throughout and outside my body.
I will watch my body swell with pulsing blood
and inflamed tissues.
I will hear her cry out in pain
as she sheds what no longer serves her.
I will feel her energy deplete
as she asks for stillness, for rest, for love.
I will hold her, nurture her, and love her
through the pain of release
as many times as she needs.
Waiting
any day now
betting
on whether the blood will come
the same way
I’ve waited and betted
on countless days before.
You think you’ve finally done it,
done it right and at the right time,
maybe this time it will be different.
No.
It’s the same as any other.
The pain from your mind, heart and uterus
submerges you in blood
until you emerge, days later.
The pain from the uterus may retreat
but from the mind and heart, does not.
It lingers
and grows
and swells for weeks
until next month, when again,
you’ll think you’ve finally done it
and then you wait
in hopeful optimism
that this time will be different.
You taste so good
manipulating my brain chemistry
to make me miserable,
doubtful,
unwell.
Despite strawberry, vanilla and chocolate notes
the skull on your label
paints the real picture,
not the words.
Cutting down to my bones
no skin to hide behind
I see old wounds still bleeding,
longing for care.
I forgot they were there,
I cannot see them without you.
Still, they bleed,
drops of red wine.
I feel the noose wrapped around my head,
my mind,
dragging me around like a wilful-less puppet
telling me what to think, and how.
Dragging me along in the gravel
my body sprays small pebbles up and around,
ricocheting off all the people cowering,
trying to grab hold of me as I fly past.
Scrapes and wounds and blood
decorate my skin.
The noose loosens,
momentarily.
Strength remains in my legs, arms and mind,
despite the injuries sustained, scarred, and healing.
I will stand up, and resist the jerking tug of rope,
taking my hands to release the knots
and drop a limp piece of rope to the ground.
Tower over it, I will, casting my shadow,
resolving to remind myself
no matter how often it takes,
that the rope will not control me.
Caught in a trance,
hands on the steering wheel
eyes on the road
mind lost in the music.
Lost in the bass
thundering through my static muscles,
lost in the guitar
amplifying my pulsating blood,
lost in the lyrics
shattering and healing my heart at once.
Turn it up loud
so my ears cannot hear my mind
attempting fantasy.
Singing, mimicking,
would be a disservice now.
So here I sit, caught in a trance
seemingly motionless, but hosting a frenzy
on the inside.
Music surges through me
as I open wide the gate
and leaves me with nothing more
than a growing smile on my lips
and radiating calm.
Dawning Words 