Words from an Insomniac still trying to find her way

Monthly Sacrificial Blues


sometimes reminds me of

a painful crash of waves upon rocks

or unscrewing a bolt with wet fingers

Fists, weighing heavily

on each delicate ovary

bruising their way through

while violently pushing out

a monthly reminder of Eve’s punishment.

A twenty-something year old curse

(the first day still haunts me so)

I still question

why so much must flow,

just so a seed has a chance to grow.

This flowing,

reminds me of a hidden dirty secret

scarred with painful dreams and night sweats

once-a-month torment

that lasted one whole month,

seems to go on forever.

Did it ever occur to you

that maybe I didn’t want

this gift of child-bearing?

(This pain will never cease!)

My feminine insides

tear apart from seam to seam

Take a knife, whatever you can find

rip me open, set me free,

(These pills, do more harm than good.)

The cold is the worst,

while the summer is uncomfortable

Pain never had a name before

the moment I became a woman

a martyr, a saint,

I never asked for it, you know.

2 responses

  1. Now, that’s the kind of poem that makes my day! Totally excellent!

    November 24, 2012 at 12:29 pm

    • Thanks Cassie. I figured men really need to understand what it is we are enduring, and be more sympathetic about our emotional roller coaster during that moment. I’m glad you enjoyed it!

      November 24, 2012 at 2:31 pm