And in her womb,
A many-petaled flower
Growing deep, insidious,
Beauty to the outside
Yet exploding,
Petals like a thousand knives,
Burrowing deep into the parts
That make her whole,
Shattering her perception
Of normal
Pain masked by the necessities of life
Only to show up unexpectedly
When love was needed most,
Her inner knowing obscured
By the petals still lodged
And slow bleeding into her womanhood,
Filling her with bloody tears
Of generations past,
Leaking onto white sheets at night,
Leaving their crimson mark
On her soul
©SpiritLed 2018