My Red Mother

Pain, a herald of her coming.
I prepare with clean wrappings,
Fresh linens to swathe her in.

The gift of life, so often cursed,
The banner unfurled, guarded,
Hidden in the womb of woman.

Send the men away to be men,
Let the women gather instead
For this is the time of sisterhood.

My red mother comes,
A blessing and a mourning together:
Another month without child,
Another month without child.

We Drink Inspiration – Poetry Prompt #002: Giving Thanks No. 2

We all have plenty of things that we’re thankful for experiencing.  This week, tell me of the negative things that you’re thankful for.  For example, I’m inclined to write a poem about how I’m thankful for my migraines.  While that may sound strange, there is really a silver-lining in the pain.

What silver-linings can you draw from negative experiences?


15 thoughts on “My Red Mother

    • I think it’s really a shame in our “modern world” how far we’ve been removed from the natural cycles of things, where a period is usually seen as an inconvenience instead of celebrated, as it is in so many other cultures.

  1. Great poem, and I agree, it’s a shame that we’ve lost sight of the natural cycles of life! All too often what is natural is treated as inconvenient if not worse. Well done!

  2. Pingback: We Drink Inspiration – Poetry Prompt #002 Results! | wdbwp

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