My womb, it remembers. It remembers, all those nights of heinous, unwanted invasions. What it was like when my skin crawled like a million tiny spiders. It remembers, how it protected itself. What it was like to be a woman when it was still a child. To break into a thousand tiny pieces. To feel like dying, if only to end the pain.
My womb, it remembers, the gentle touch of someone worthy. The meaning of worship, and love. The sense of empowerment, and elation, like a woman should feel. It remembers, a tiny life, growing and strong. Every tiny movement, especially when that life reminded me everything was alright. The miracle. It remembers, birth, joy, and relief. The astonishment of what it created. Perfection.
My womb, it remembers, so much good after so much horror.
© Sarah Doughty
For the #MayBookPrompts – Life, The Universe, And Everything
Photo credit Pixabay, the edit is mine.