Holly Matter by Ellowen

Until the whole world is on its knees 

Begging for 

A sip of blood or 

A drip of oracle from 

The lips of menstruating women, 

I will not quieten. 

I will keep smearing it on my face -

It’s the best face-mask around,

Although I hear semen is pretty good too - 

I will keep free-bleeding onto the grass and 

All over lovers’ bedsheets

In my lunar reminder 

That death is life 

And life is death, 

Yes, I will keep believing that, okay, 

Red isn’t my only colour, 

Winter isn’t my only season, 

And not all my songs are shouts 

That set the earth to quaking -

But some of them are. 

This blood is a note in 

The cosmic symphony, 

A magic spell

Just like the rest. 

And if you’re bored of my blood-talk, listen - 

I will keep blood-talking until the world remembers that 

The potential contained within our womb blood is immense. 

These are mysteries only you can experience; 

Drink it and see. 

Collect your blood, 

Put it on your altar, 

Gaze upon it lovingly 

As though it were the moon

Pray with it;

If you haven’t got an altar, 

Offer it to the earth 

With a prayer for her; 

If you refuse to pray,

Bake it into a cake. 

If there’s a little or a loud voice in your mind that says

“That’s disgusting” - 

Listen. Closely. 

Who is speaking? 

Is it you, or is it a voice you’ve inherited 

From your next-of-kin? 

Don’t shame it - it’s a part of you. 

But so is the whisper of the body that knows 

That stirs with curiosity, excitement and remembrance -

Listen to that, too. 

Adore all the parts of you. 

This isn’t just about blood, though - 

It’s a matter of matter in general. 

This is not always the way things have been. 

When did we forget that spirit dances in everything? 

When did this become a cold, lifeless universe? 

We’ve degraded most matter to inanimate “objects” 

That we simply consume; 

Degraded our blood to waste; 

Reduced our animals to sandwich fillings. 

But the more we choose to see spirit in everything, 

The more we make of life a ritual, 

The more we remember that everything is

So fucking holy

Until we forget again.

And as we peer into the darkness of matter, 

With wider, cuter eyes, 

Bearing witness to the quantum dance, 

It’s harder to deny this Intelligence. 

But you don’t need science

To tell you that - 

Peer into your own matter

And see what shines back.

Ellowen, 30, New Zealand