Glorious Reminder

Wonder why people assume
That blood always means pain?
Sometimes, it’s a celebration:
I don’t cringe at the sight of red,
Nor crawl into a ball and weep

When I get my periods…
I break into a merry,
Merry song, Drink to my very own good health,
And dance my way to the bed;
It’s a monthly reminder,
That my body needs Attention – love, care & rest;

It’s a philosophical reminder
That the same vagina
Through which
My baby will pop out one day
Is now running bedding trials;
It’s a glorious reminder
Of my femininity,
My purpose,
My identity,
My life,
And lives there after…

This post originally appeared on the Menstrupedia blog.

About the author of this post:

Maheshwari Lakshmanan is a wannabe poet, when she is not a wannabe stoic.