An Ode to Menopause
An Ode to Menopause
They called her vessel,
as if holiness needed to be received.
A womb to be filled by men.
A womb to be filled by God.
Mother Mary’s cup was filled,
and so was mine.
Six times.
I drank the sweetness
of newborn heads,
downy skin, and chubby folds.
Until the day.
That sacred pause,
when creation ceased.
My vessel vacant,
my womb turned tomb,
collapsed on a finish line
drawn by men.
Leaving me worthless,
and looking for breath
in that sacred pause.
Where I thirsted
and searched the empty shell
I called myself.
And beyond my womb,
I saw the holy vessels
hidden within.
Mind, heart, and soul
waiting for fullness.
And in that sacred pause
where new life could no longer beget,
there was resurrection.
Through birth of purpose,
and the filling of one’s own cup,
I found myself.
A vessel,
pregnant and full,
from which now I drink.
This is really beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing. It's so true.
Beautiful 🥹, thank you for this. The part describing women as a vessel having to receive holiness, and challenging that idea, is really profound.