Full Moon

Barefoot; each step sinking in mud
splashes of rain marry with
crimson drops in a puddle
of stormed waves
from an opened heaven

She kneels to the ground
simultaneously glancing
left, right, behind
cheeks blushed, her soul falling
as teardrops - her lowest ebb.

Ripping her cotton dress
she replaces blood soaked rags -
it’s been six days.

This war within herself
at only twelve years of age

Every nineteen days
her body a vessel; a period
of girlhood abruptly ends,
womanhood demurred.

Each & every month
persecuted;
Jesus nailed to a cross.

Amidst war-torn streets
fleeing torched homes
civil war displacing
orphaned sisters –
*****.
As militants continue to
prevail over children’s
innocence

Washing her sin away
red body fluids disperse
in mud, rain, water, soil -
her reflection lost
alongside any remaining dignity

On those same knees
Badriyyah pleads with God
to no longer bring forth
the fertility of conception
each cursed month.

Congolese civil wars
scraped away landscapes
Mother Nature
scraped away internal walls

& month after month
after month after month
this period endures
& a child of the night
stays hidden from sight.

© Sia Jane