Thirteen

Parisha Dutta:

That first dotted stain on my baby pink shorts;

Forever in my memory and my thoughts.

I ran to the loo while tears in my eyes;

I saw myself bleeding and there my throat dies.

Mum wasn’t home, I was so alone;

Brother in the other room but I was fear prone.

I sat on the floor tiles as I watched it going red;

Terrified and scared, I thought I will be dead.

I couldn’t come out, I closed myself in;

As my brother called out, my heart pounded within.

I felt a little pain under my stomach little low;

I started feeling drowsy, as my blood kept it’s flow.

 

I prayed to God, “Please bring my mother back;

I can’t bear it anymore, my body feels a crack.”

As sound beeped soon, there she came,

I opened the door and started to blame.

She held my hand and caressed my hair;

I was so puzzled as I glared at her.

It happens to all, she said it was fine;

I sighed with relief as I sat for my dine.

Twenty years from now,  I still laugh at this;

Menstruation is not a taboo, it is a bliss.

Reproduced with permission from Parisha Writes.

Parisha Dutta is a rising writer, poet and blogger. She is of Bengali origin and currently resides in Guwahati, Assam, India. She would like to pursue a literary career as a poet and a writer. Her aim is to become a passionate writer and presently she is trying and working on lyrics and sonets.

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