Nights when I watch the hours turn
As shadows struggle with the moon’s cause
And just after the two longest minutes have passed
While my temple of love clings still to my heavy heart
I birth the loss of you and the ill you tried to burden me with
Because it is very human to be human
And pride comes before a fall.
Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.
NOMZI KUMALO 
The finality of menstruation–of a biological cycle, of the possibility of a pregnancy, of the very substance from which we all begin when we are conceived. Like Simon, I love the line, “…I birth the loss of you and the ill you tried to burden me with…” This is haunting, unrevealing, a secret kept from us but hinted at. I love poems that make me stop and think and reread it several or even many times. You’ve done that with this poem, Nomzi.
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And this biological cycle binds us to the earth temporarily. Yes, it is fascinating that it is where we all begin. The fact that we do menstruate is mysteriously yet systematically kept out of sight, out of discussion and out of mind. We disempower ourselves with these brutal acts of denial and betrayal.
I am humbled that this poem reached you and resonates with you and Simon as well. It is wonderful that we have such opportunities to learn from each other.
I wish you a beautiful year filled with joy and laughter Mary. 🙂
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“… I birth the loss of you and the ill you tried to burden me with …”, a profound line i am digesting together with a reading I came across somewhere many years ago: Menstruation is a woman’s cry from the deep for a child that could have been.
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Hello Simon, a lovely surprise to hear from you. Yes, it was a cathartic experience, not only to find words to express myself, but to also have a place to release them during another season that is hypercommercialised.
Have you read a wonderful poem by Elizabeth Bishop called One Art? It is one of my favourite poems. I wish you a year full of peace and fun. Before I forget, thank you for your support still. 🙂
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
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Art of Losing reminds me of Art of Non-Attachment. I have lost so much in recent years. Whether by own will or not, the intent has been for me free/ cleanse my Soul, I reckon. I have never been happier. Disaster only on the surface, and to eyes that knoweth not.
Yes, all the best to you too in 2015. Thank you! 🙂
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Thank you. I feel the same Simon, less is more. I am so glad that you are embracing happiness. People will always have their opinions and impressions but ultimately I know who I am and what I stand for. I am sure you do too. Keep shining. 🙂
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🙂
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Hmm, deep. Powerful imagery. 🙂 Merry Christmas, Nomzi. 🙂
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Women must wake from slumber. Stories where a woman lays lifeless until a man finds her and kisses her awake, to live. My goodness. In 2014. Food for thought.
In the meantime, I take things slow. I digest and listen some more. Have a wonderful holiday season too Celestine. 🙂
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