Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site

What is this, my almighty?

What is what?

My existence.

This fertile womb.

The curse of blood that you gave us.

Oh, that’s proof I am and was.

Got it, sounds to me like a woman’s period serves as an example of punishment one may face.

if you don’t listen to the rules you made.

Yes, now you’re getting the gist of it!

I see.

So, we’re still suffering for someone else’s poor judgment are we? Noted.

But doesn’t seem relevant any longer, or conducive for me or other she’s.

Well, I’m the word!

What does that mean?

You know, the beginning and end of human beings.

Before when it was just me, I found myself lonely and needed entertaining.

I started with one, who quickly became two.

From two they grew, and grew.

And I’m sure you know the rest.

as there are many books that can attest.

But lets get back to why you cant just accept.

There is no exact answer for the questions you seek.

So, no need to shout my name in vain at me.

Answers you want don’t exist, and that’s just it.

I created a magical world and planted you in it.

The end.

Well, until your weak flesh gives in.

Then its back to the soil for all my little creations.

I hear what you’re saying.

But do you regret it?

What?

Punishing the first she for feeling humility, after being tricked by a serpent in the garden you made for Adam and eve?

You created the tempting.

Cursing us to have the wombs, to forever bear mans baby.

9 Months we wait, while our insides are rearranging.

In the name of eves lack of faith, women will forever carry her pain, bravely.

Am I just an after affect mistake who inherited guilt from a careless daughter you made?

Tell me, please.

These chains are getting too long and, she started the first link of trauma that quietly crept on.

We just picked up the chains, without questioning to whom they actually belonged.

Never thought to ask why they were already so heavy.

So we continued to pick them up, to pass down for the next of kin to carry.

Well, It stops with me.

Don’t hold grudges, is that not what you say to me?

Yet here we are 6 thousand years later and 7 days a month, we still bleed.

as a reminder of a mistake, made by Eve.

Making us the only ones who can bear mans seed.

Even though, man is mentioned more than she in every book I read.

Women grow limbs in these wombs.

We build life.

But still I feel empty inside.

Lost.

Purposeless.

Please almighty, tell me that my existence isn’t only to be, a mere vessel for a new skin sacks earth delivery.

This piece is kind of a fun take, or a pov on how I picture a conversation with my Higher Power my look. I have questions ♥️