Blood

By Lian Brook-Tyler

Your arrival was

heralded in words like

sanitary, applicators, cramps.

You seemed functional,

I felt nothing much at all.

When you came,

the battle was a lonely one,

with a tampon stubbornly stuck.

You seemed like the enemy,

I felt scared and small.

You grew more terrible,

decades of rage, leaks and agony.

Your very name evoked pain and shame.

You seemed like a curse,

Believe me, I felt cursed.

You mellowed

after my children came,

there was more mess but less pain.

You seemed like an inconvenience,

I felt resigned.

You began to whisper

“What if there’s more?”

I saw you clearly for the first time,

you seemed like a teacher,

I felt ready.

You taught me the old ways

of temples and mysteries,

how my whole cycle was a gift.

You seemed like a blessing,

and yes, I felt blessed.

You are dripping

with beauty, power and wisdom.

It’s taken me so long but at last I see,

you are the Goddess,

flowing through me.

Art: Mathilda Khoo