Becoming

stretch marks

flashed like lightning

across my thighs

hips rose like whale bones

from the depths of womanhood

threatening to swallow me whole

a surge of blood

as cyclical as the moon

unasked for 

yet as unstoppable as the tide

I think of the pain

I carry in my womb

like a secret

as my mother did before me

and her mother before her

the tiredness 

we carry in our bone marrow

tasting of clay 

on the back of chalky tongues

to be a woman

can feel like belonging to everyone

but yourself

even your body

in its seasons of wilting

turning away from you 

like a sunflower

turning away from the sun