Barefoot, each step sunken 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 with herself
at only twelve years of age
every nineteen days
her body a vessel, confirmation
of demurred womanhood

Each month persecuted,
Jesus nailed to a cross
a period of girlhood abruptly ends.

Amidst war-torn streets
fleeing torched homes
civil war displacing
orphaned sisters - *****
militants prevail over innocence.

Washing her sin away
red body fluids disperse
in mud, rain, water, soil
her reflection lost
along the side of dignity

On those same knees
Chausiku pleaded 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
and month after month after month this period endures
and a child of the night stays hidden from sight.

© Sia Jane