Wednesday, March 8, 2017

International Women's Day


~Chalice~

Blood spills from my loins
Collected in a sacred chalice
Nestled at the entrance of my womb
Never stagnant.  Never stale.

My cup never runneth over,
But is emptied upon the earth
Devoured and broken down into the divine
Satisfying infinite beings of iron delight

No mother today but mother always
Daily labour creating our life
Rolling with the ebb and flow
Of contractions and screaming reactions
All that is worthy holds pain
All that is painful is ecstasy awaiting release

I am the soft
I am the strong
The roar
The weaver
The judgement and redeemer
The sting of a wooden spoon washed down with a hug and a warm cup of milk

~SW


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