I have turned into the sun
Flashes of heat waft
through my body,
up the length of my chest,
and burst through my two
aged lips to warm the day.
As my breasts reach down to the earth
they dance along the
length of my stomach,
the two pieces of flesh
relearning each other,
and the space to love
growing cell by cell around my ribs.

The children I have borne
and the ones I have lost
are bitter sweet reminders
of the life I have lived and the souls I have built.

But my body is mine now
and I have no interest in sharing
this flowery physique with
none other than myself.

I am a whirlwind of existence,
flying through feeling
like shark through water.
I am learning what it means to be sad
to be fully engrossed in the loss of life
only to feel the air snatched from my lungs
as I am shot out of the lowness of depravity
and landed on a cloud of joy.
From here I can see the whole world
buzzing beneath my menopausal feet.

I used to rain on the earth below me.
Spread my legs and soak the world
with myself.
Growing roses through cracks in the concrete
setting myself aside
so the ones around me
would never go thirsty.

I have whet the appetites of men
for long enough
I keep creatures between my legs now
worlds of unknown
nurtured by the neatness of my nook,
relishing in the heat of my body
the waves of my ocean.

This is my Climacterium.
This is my world.

I have carved mountains
in this land,
screamed so loud the sky opened up
and the heavens poured down upon us.
I have found God
sitting at the base of my stomach
making herself anew
once a month
for the last forty years,
laying her head to rest.

© Ama Akoto (2018)

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