womb cries into a lullaby,
no WOman to hold,
nor woMAN to stand by her side,
instead she weeps into her sleep,
Wings which form an armour around her,
neither father or mother present to pray over her,
so instead she feeds the womb comfort,
food which poisons and rots the insides,
no teas to warm her up, and tone down inflammation,
instead her seeds are released each month with difficulty,
agony shoots up every inch of her cervix,
fallopian tubes find themselves blocked,
the trees state to heal through the fruit the earth provides,
so I juice away the fear,
I juice away the pain,
I feed greens to cover the red and purple,
I let them turn me into a tree,
like branches I lay my arms open for her to embrace me,
Mother earth with her plants and flowers,
each a token of healing,
herbs to help the womb,,,