we bleed, we bleed
we bleed to feed
our survival
changing state each moon
with feast plates
of blood offerings
we bleed, we bleed
we bleed to feed
our survival
heavy, slippery, thin
matrilineal memories
shedding from within
under cusp of new moon
replenishing as she returns
we remember
cotton bleached
way out of reach
taboo tricks us to feel shame
what do they know of intuition ?
what do they know of
birth right or birth pain ?
we were already alive inside
our grandmothers’ wombs
so many moons ago
as cosmic eggs of creation
we travelled galaxies
cradled in the dark
wombs of our mothers
waiting inside their mothers
to be born
we bleed, we bleed
to feed our survival
shedding red
back to grandmother soil
ripening her black dirt
with our own earth
nutrient filled
liquid worth
we bleed, we bleed
we bleed to seed
our survival
for our granddaughters
to reap when they arrive
on the other side
of our wombs
I pray for them
they will not have to give birth
in concrete tombs
but lodges woven
with love as
they bring forth
future generations
incarnations of power
flower in the light
I pray for them
they will know a time
when men align
with our cycles
drawing divine circles of sage
around our bellies
filling us with gifts of
praise to stay inside and rest
let me rub your feet
prepare you sweet
raspberry leaf tea
remedies not only for pain
but for loving again
let us love again
we bleed, we bleed
we bleed to feed
our survival
let us leave the demonized
too filthy blood
staining all things pure aside
like the lies we’ve been fed
little and white
let their ignorant faces
die in the night
certain things must die
in order to make room
for others to live
we bleed
we bleed
we bleed
Moe Clark
Texte publié dans le No.23 iskwêwomxn
