The blood comes and I bleed
and I bleed,
a bleeding without death.
I am immortal.
I live in the cycle of the moon,
in the changing of the seasons,
in the relentless running of the rivers.

I bleed
and I bleed
and it's pain,
and it's agony without end.
I suffer like my ancestors
I suffer like my descendants
but we shall not weep for it ties us together,
it binds us to the Earth
to which we give what we received.
It's organic,
it's power,
it's magic,
it's a blessing.

Sacred is the blood between my legs.


© WeepingWillow