A LETTER TO MENSTRUATION.
Dear monthly visitor,
I
expected a different knock at the doors of my womb,i looked out for
nausea and dark areola's ,cravings and morning sicknesses; but you
tickled my vanity and soared painfully like fat raindrops between my
legs.
We always glare at each other every month ,but this time i expected
another visitor, My personal arsenal wants to flare up at the unusal
fatness shooting at the expectance of a child, I want to feel a
child strapped at my back,feel the cligyness at my breast as I feed my
child ,i want to form a coherent thought of being called"mother,mama or
mom".I agree that your a monthly visitor but I want to reach my sunset
,i solicit for a space of nine(9) months,nine months for my pregnancy to
scream outside as a label ,dancing and dangling in the eyes of those
that called me barren ,in the eyes of my mother inlaw to shut her
rythmic screams of not giving her a child for five years,I
hope you understand, i would definitely see you after I bathe my child
in a washed sky and kiss the colour rising from her cheeks.
I am not desperate am just a woman,it is my eternal purpose to bring beauty to the world, the world spins faster in so many ways, bagging my child and dancing up in the sidewalk of the sunrise is one moment I want to spur around .....
There's not alot of time to think beyond the moment.I hope you understand.
Yours faithfully
Black woman.
Black woman.
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