The Point

Blue and pink abstract.
Photo by Anni Roenkae from Pexels

Females are a miracle.

Every month the inner walls of our center, our being,

where all of creation is birthed,

is extirpated and shed

blooming anew.

And where there is growth,

there is also pain.

Accompanied with a flower that weeps

and wails tears of blood,

gushing a mercurial and sanguine

sludge.

Each month a part of us dies

to make room for the new.

We are demonized and dehumanized

for what our bodies do behind clothing

and outwardly silent,

yet inwardly our bodies scream

and rage

through the thrumming, throbbing, and drumming

of uterine tissue ripping itself apart.

We should be celebrated, raised up, and honored

through agony and the walls of our womb liberating itself.

We bring life, we hold it, we nurture it, we caress it,

we set it forth, we set it free; we are power and magic.

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Queer Writer & Poet | Sex and Sensuality | Health and Wellness Interests | Personal Experience | LINKTR.EE/TOLBERTMBB | Instagram @tolbert_on_medium

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Tolbert

Tolbert

Queer Writer & Poet | Sex and Sensuality | Health and Wellness Interests | Personal Experience | LINKTR.EE/TOLBERTMBB | Instagram @tolbert_on_medium

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