Menstrualogue

Like a drop of paint dilluting itself in water she watches this month´s batch of eggs slowly water down in the toilet.

In a parallell universe, this is a blessing, she thought.
They put women on pedestalls and offer ”Blood of Life” at communion.

A whole institution stands behind centuries of worship to it.  

My ”blood of life” however, is soaked up by taxed tampons my mother taught me to carfully wrap in toilet paper and throw away in the trash.

”Men shouldn´t see this blood” she told me ”Or anyone else, for that matter”.

If this blood were shooting out of men, I´m sure we´d be bathing in it.

Then again, maybe the weaknesses that bleeding once a month brings with it, is humbling.
Easier sniffing out bleeding prey.  

Coming face to face with my demons once a month is perhaps a blessing then.

The contraceptive she´s on has had her bleeding for four weeks now.
Changing the very course of nature in her, because becoming pregnant right now isn´t an option.

Feeling bloated, needing to eat and feeling sorry for myself.
The rage, the ups and downs, the solitude.  
All this taboo making it so lonely. All women go through it.

TV commercials for menstrual products,  someone cashing in big-time on it, still I´m left to feel alone, dirty and weak.