a monthly imprisonment

by huda shah

runs like ink

into my fingertips

I scrub until my fingers feel raw

impure

unholy

wrong

how could

such a natural phenomenon

such a virgin manifestation

be banned

from everyday existence

spoken about in

hushed whispers

silent stares

vigorous nudges

the men can not know

how can I hide

such a part of me

that i was thrust upon

I did not ask

to expel blood

every month

and

be shamed

all the same

so far out of my control

why

shall I be victimized

a circumstance most bizarre

the pain

along with the bleeding embrace

keeps me up at night

I watch my brother sleep luxuriously

unaware

of the mute struggle

that banishes me

a week every month

like a recluse

hermit

solidarity to the highest order

I refuse to

engage in

such an act of exclusion

I speak loudly

of my worries troubles and pain

look in my eyes

when I describe the process

I’m tearing off the tape

bound tight across my lips

speak up