As I closed all my blackout curtains and crawled into a ball in my bed on day one of my cycle these are just the words that came to me. No sense has to be made, just raw stream of thought.
The woman’s body, my divine vessel. As I experience my cycle completely unmedicated, the human desires to label the experience as pain. Although I understand through the wisdom and knowledge my body carries that just because it hurts doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful, absolutely undeniable divine. I love being a woman and all that comes with her.
She flows through cycles and transitions, preparing for life’s natural events. She is a creator, a portal between the universe and the physical realm. What on this earth could possibly attain that type of magic? She holds the doorway between the earth and the heavens.
She has earned her value and respect simply from her existence. She is alive.
She screams and she cries as she feels all of the aches and the weight of the world on her back.
They try to disconnect us from ourselves but no strategy, no law, no try, could ever come between her and her natural flow, she is directly connected to the divine, so much so that not even the sharpest of knives could cut the cord. Not just connected to, but she is one with source. She breathes the air and contains the life force. She is the life force. Without her, there is first chaos, and then shortly after, there is nothing. She gives us breath, she creates the lungs, her body will sacrifice itself solely for the oxygen to flow through our blood.
She suffers. She is a warrior. She is all of the elements. She is the fire. She, like the phoenix rises from the ashes time and time again, she cannot be held down. She cannot be broken. And cursed is the man who tries to tie her wings for he will feel her wrath when she expands into her evolution. She is life, cannot be stopped. She is life, cannot be tamed. She is life, built to thrive.