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day 17 of my menstrual cycle, sharing 'a poem a day' project
The beautiful Sophie-Jane Hardy calls it throwing spaghettis at the wall to see what sticks. Playful spring energy, try new things just for the sake of playing and trying. What would I do if I knew I cannot fail?
Apparently this - write and post a poem a day in April. Here on Substack I do it through notes daily. And then I post a screenshot of that on my Instagram. Easy-peasy.
I didn’t even have a thought about this one. I just did it. No expectations. I write them fast. I tend to write short ones. Maybe I’ll explore longer ones. No room for inner critic. I don’t even care if they are good (sorry reader if it feels like a waste of time). And for now I am playing. Sharing here the past 7 days. Let me know what you think and what all of this stirs in you.
Note: By MCD I mean menstrual cycle day.
1 April poem and MCD 11
I rode the bike today
through the forest
down the hills
through the small villages.
As the landscape was changing around me
I noticed something that resisted the change
It was stable, observant, yet flowing with the wheels turning and the landscape changing.
And each bump in the road reminded me of my aching ovaries
of the life force that lives within
a well of creation and inspiration
pouring from my body
with a mysterious regularity
that I am learning to cherish.
2 April poem MCD 12
Wind is roaring again.
What else needs to be swept away?
These days I long for peace
And the wind reminds me I can practice to find it within.
The rain is falling in thin curtains
blurring the clear view on the valley.
And as my body settles into the safety of this moment
I imagine the rainbow that I saw a few days ago
creating the bridge between this and other worlds.
The church bells ring 10 am
I must root myself in life’s practicalities now
Having whispered these few words of prayer and contemplation.
3 April poem MCD 13
Dreams.
I receive medicine while my body rests and my eyes are closed.
The cat wakes and stirs me when I am trying to hold on to the thread
that I was spinning in the dream
and often I let it go and forget.
Is my cat helping me wake up with the thread in hand
or using her clawed paws to play with it?
This latest dream
had me swinging between improvising and following the script
Improvising what?
I yearn for more freedom and adventure.
Following which script?
I also practice settling into the safety of my body and this life.
Like a pendulum I swing between following and going off script
and my cat seems to be an active participant in this play.
4 April poem MCD 14
A part of me needs some real nourishment
Something I need to give myself
not because it’s healthy,
not because they say it’s good for me.
But because I need it!
A part of me needs it and it is finally loud enough for me to hear.
What will I feed that part?
What food, words, thoughts, activities will I engage with
To nourish that self that feels depleted?
She has been surviving on morsels
And now she is ready for a feast.
5 April poem MCD 15
What if it is true that it is darkest before dawn?
What if the darkness is the place of yearning
And what if I’m befriending this longing
and gently leaning into it?
What if the first light of day
is also within me
meeting the light outside
in celebration?
What if I stretch and make space
for this light?
And as I do so
Light settles around the earth
Knowing that somewhere the darkness is still unfolding.
6 April poem MCD 16
At peace when there is war.
Too much is asked of us - do I war or do I ground?
I am here, now
and I am in the world
frictioning with it.
Longing for peace when all I know is how to go to war
with all that is
within me.
An unsettled Sunday morning.
Hungry but lazy to cook
Too many options for a tired soul.
What color to pick when the canvas is blank?
7 April poem MCD 17
I love my warrior Spirit -
it has gotten me through some challenging times.
The day after she died
I was broken
but my Spirit said, ‘Right, here is what you can hold onto to walk through life’.
And about two months ago
these strategies showed signs of wear and tear.
The ‘things’ that helped me then
my body was screaming to let them transform.
Strategies that work sometimes
are not the needed ones at new and different times.
As my body changes
so do my needs and my reality.
Today I sit among the flowers, bees, butterflies and birds,
the sun warm on my back
and the wind whispering to me:
Where there was struggle,
Peace can now settle.
Where there was pain,
Expansive joy can now take space.
Where there was fear,
Trust is taking root.
I keep listening to my Spirit
as it presents new ways of leaning into
this beautiful life that keeps unfolding
and to which
I now know
I belong.
Note: How is war different than warrior spirit? I don’t have an elaborate answer to this. But I know that the war I spoke of yesterday, is different to the warrior spirit I speak of today.
