Uncomfortable Silence

“Mum, what’s a period?”

~

Through that hollow echo,

I learnt

never to ask again.

~

My baby boy did

eventually arrive;

called a miracle.

He was always a good chance,

but we don’t talk about

those kinds of things.

~

Just before it first arrived,

I was hit with an ache.

Unaware of what was coming,

I still couldn’t open my mouth.

~

As an adult,

I learnt to find my voice.

Doctors tossed around words:

severe endometriosis,

bowel resection,

colostomy bag.

~

I went under the knife,

crawled into unconsciousness.

Upon my return,

my hand on my abdomen.

No bag.

A sigh of relief.

~

So much time wasted,

through my teenage years.

Monthly pain twisting through my body.

Crippling,

agonising,

misery.

Pilfered analgesia,

hidden under the veneer of a headache.

Headaches are civilised.

~

“Mum, what’s a period?”

~

Silver threads now weave through my hair.

~

How was silence easier?