The next time a woman tells you she's cramping, never trivialize her pain. I know that period pains are not normal but it's pain untold. The kind you wish you'd be dead already. Darkness dominates your world and at the far corner of your bedroom is your breath laughing at you, yet you can't touch it. Everyone who has met me in the wake of those pains has seen exactly what a woman resurrected from death looks like.
Here is a poem I wrote during one of those.
Her world is cracking and breaking and aching and bleeding and burning.
Her stomach the center of all the atrocities.
She's seated on the toilet multitasking. Throwing up and asking her pain how much toilet paper should a bleeding woman spend for five days.
Before she calculates, she's crawling on the floor and rolling over in bed.
Every particle that hits her stomach is thrown out,
until nothing is left but her throat to come out.
Allover her tummy are the blisters left by hot water bottles she so expected to relieve the pain.
Insults sound like, 'get a man' 'get a baby'
Exercise, 'oh just cramps! Women problems!
So when a woman says she's cramping,
allow her to frown, to groan and moan for her body is a warzone.
She's won these battles on her own.
Allow her to chase you away she doesn't need you.
Far away from her world if you can't take her uterus away.
Allow her to crave for chocolates and ice cream at midnight and if she doesn't get it,
allow her to scream.
Don't judge the tantrums and the yelling.
Don't touch her she's allergic and fragile.
She might be wishing death upon herself.
Cursing her uterus for the torture,
wondering how heartless is Mother Nature,
And how ruthless is the creator.
Why the overdose of Buscopan, Ibuprofen, Ponstan and even induction would never touch the pain.
So when a woman says she's cramping,
allow her to be, a woman.
