MENTAL HEALTH - Poetry

“MOONS”

Written by Alma Claire / Art by Sam Mbwana

Moons float through dark skies

and I do not bleed.

 

Womb in mourning.

 

I deny my womanhood with every uneaten

memory.

 

Times goes by,

I shiver and cry,

moon in the sky,

 

and I do not bleed.

 

Mirror Mirror on the wall,

my only wish is to be small.

 

Tell me why my thighs touch?

Why my skin rolls and folds?

 

Every day you disappoint me.

 

Disgust me.

 

Mirror Mirror on the wall,

you were the start of it all.

 

Oh how you have sobbed over filling breasts,

you have moaned a deep and painful moan

over softening edges.

 

Why have you pulled and poked your skin?

 

The wound is too fresh

for you to notice the

growing hair and growing laughter,

the colouring face and the filling of space.

 

Why can’t you see beauty without bones?

 

Your body is like the moon:

 

It will change and curve and shrink and grow

but that doesn’t mean you must love it any

less.

 

No.

 

You will love it the same no matter if it is only

a silver crescent or a sphere iridescent

because it always shines the same.

 

Your body is a moon:

 

Stop loving it because of its shape.

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