The peach coloured dress
I wore to the surgery
Got my blood on it.
Since I came back home
The dress has disappeared
Also the blood has.
I have more blood than
I have got a lot of blood
I love my own blood
But we don’t show it
Except via rosy cheeks
Blood is too private
We don’t menstruate
Without some gear to hide the blood.
We don’t parade it
Yet it has beauty
Jesus’s blood is sacred
Our blood is our life.
Who sent my blood to heal?
Who takes care of my body?
Who dwells inside me?
Why are we proud-willed
When power is not ours to wield?
Be humble, oh earth,oh people.
How my heart sings 