Poem: The Goddess Bleeds Too

Posted By: Aastha Gupta

Art By: Tora

CW: Cis language.

I am a child of divinity,

A daughter of ancient gold,

I am descended from a Goddess

Or so I have been told;

From scriptures repeated to tender ears in the prayer room

and from redundant tongues speaking the language of tradition

 

Holy blood flows in my veins,

I am but another form of my creator

As all other women of my religion;

Yet my body is tainted

Every twenty eight days,

It is scarred by shades of vermilion

which invite disgust and shame

 

And in this time I am banished to silence and seclusion,

I cannot speak of my condition,

I must conceal it as best I can

Through layers of clothing and suppressed cries;

Confinement to my bed,

I abandon education and work; I separate from normal life

 

Every twenty eight days are a curse,

Yet I wonder why at their first arrival

they are celebrated as a girl’s ingress into the real world?

The blood I shed is a mark of coming of age

Yet after the first time it is treated as a bane;

 

I have now suffered this paradoxical cycle for seven years

but suddenly find myself thinking of the adage taught to me as a young girl,

That if I truly am the offspring of the goddess,

Then my blood is hers,

If I really am her child,

Then I bleed divine blood;

The Goddess too must endure the pain I do

She too would be subject to the same shame

 

Yet I was also taught that all divine creatures are embodiment of perfection

and cannot experience things like shame;

Then why must I, a descendant of a divine creature

be ashamed of my body, which I inherited from them?

Why must everyone else- the very priests who informed me of my holy connections

exile me and all of my sisters to this monthly humiliation?

Why must I be barred from entering my spiritual mother’s home

for exhibiting the very function she does?

 

And with these questions, I realise

that my monthly bane is in reality a blessing,

It is The Goddess’s way of showing me I am still her daughter

That I bleed her own blood,

and experience the same pain;

That I must now rejoice and not hide myself every twenty eight days-

I must celebrate.


Did you enjoy reading this poem? Then you should definitely check out: Poem: Give Me A Story

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