Menstrual Period Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

In the quiet of the month,
the girl comes alive,
the moon rises in her body,
pulling at tides buried deep.
A cycle spins softly,
bringing color to the mundane,
as red flows like a river,
tender and fierce,
a reminder of rhythms
written in blood and bone.

Each month, she learns again,
the beauty wrapped in the burden,
cramps like old news,
whispers both wild and wise,
shouting strength in every ache.
Comfort's found beneath the sheets,
chocolate, heat, and a movie marathon,
while the world spins outside her door,
steady, unaware.

Friends gather, sharing stories,
clinking glasses filled with laughter,
sticky notes with heart doodles,
to celebrate this sacred cycle—
the tales of first times,
embarrassment turned into bravery,
the lessons learned through each flow,
every silence shared a bond,
because this is not the end.

This is a beginning,
a mark of change and growth,
a passage through confusion,
into understanding.
And though the bright red stain
may sometimes feel like a curse,
it's also a line of hope,
an echo of life,
the power to create, to nurture,
to dance with dreams yet unfurled.

For every period—
there's a pulse, a heartbeat,
drumming through the quiet nights,
calling forth the strength inside,
reminding her,
she is whole, she is brave,
and life is tangled roots,
finding warmth in the seasons,
rediscovering her place among the stars.

Let them whisper and talk,
let them judge or misunderstand,
for in each drop falls a story,
a history written in the shadows,
that tells of courage
and the rhythm of being.
She stands tall, with every wave,
with every tide returning,
because a menstrual period is life,
and she is here,
alive,
strong,
and free.