Crimson droplets
from deep within
my femininity
whir and purr
     into ripe, full spin
It is my time
        for the moon
to glow at its
            brightest
shine in its fullest
              fervor as I
let myself
be relished by
Mother Earth,
reveling in my
          woman spirit love  
Holding my pen
as a sword,
          I dance into
the dark forest,
arms raised
as if to get closer
to the stars
Yes
          they are calling me
as creativity spills
from my fingers
into the atmosphere
my aura communicates
reverberates
          mystical pulses
into the ether
and while pain creates
little uterine explosions
that bloat
and ache,
         a power trips
through me
that cannot
be faked
mood swings,
cravings for
spice
   and ***
sway my mind
like a sharp,
whitened hex
No point in
claiming inhumanity
      for this
hormonal state
is like a bout
                of temporary insanity
and with all of it
     swirling round
and round
with all of the
attempts at
emotional restraint
in themselves
bound, I am
    without complaint
for this is the ultimate
miracle of our bodies
the ripe potential
          to procreate
(if we are so inclined or destined)
or just be
     enfolded in who we are
we are part of
magnetic earthbeats
as we are part of
                the bliss
                      of stars