by: Bridgitte Thao
Just as the ocean’s tides recede,
The waves always come back to feed.
And just as once a month I begin to bleed,
I always wonder, “What’s the need?”
When the red of my veins soaks the sheets,
And the pain of marching soldiers creeps,
And I must limit what I eat
I always wonder, “What’s the need?”
Is it my soul that causes this bleed?
The one that toils, breathless, to succeed?
My soul, whose ambitions hint greed,
Like a wealthy dragon guarding its keep?
Or is my heart behind this stream?
The one that yearns for an icy breeze,
That beats day in and out, hoping to be freed
My heart that pumps this blood I bleed
Perhaps my mind is behind this deed,
Always turning, never letting me sleep,
Keeping me up until 3:15
Sobbing until I can’t breathe.
Why, every month, do I bleed?
What beast does this blood feed?
At the mere age of sixteen,
The times I have bled is over sixty.
Why does the moon move so mean?
Why does it never let me keep
My underwear free of stains, my white sheets
Where are my painless nights and sunny weeks?
Why do I bear this periodic curse with defeat?
Women have conquered mountains with their bare feet!
What force of terror keeps us from relief?
Why do the ocean’s tides recede?