I have turned into the sun Flashes of heat waft through my body, up the length of my chest, and burst through my two aged lips to warm the day. As my breasts reach down to the earth they dance along the length of my stomach, the two pieces of flesh relearning each other, and the space to love growing cell by cell around my ribs.
The children I have borne and the ones I have lost are bitter sweet reminders of the life I have lived and the souls I have built.
But my body is mine now and I have no interest in sharing this flowery physique with none other than myself.
I am a whirlwind of existence, flying through feeling like shark through water. I am learning what it means to be sad to be fully engrossed in the loss of life only to feel the air snatched from my lungs as I am shot out of the lowness of depravity and landed on a cloud of joy. From here I can see the whole world buzzing beneath my menopausal feet.
I used to rain on the earth below me. Spread my legs and soak the world with myself. Growing roses through cracks in the concrete setting myself aside so the ones around me would never go thirsty.
I have whet the appetites of men for long enough I keep creatures between my legs now worlds of unknown nurtured by the neatness of my nook, relishing in the heat of my body the waves of my ocean.
This is my Climacterium. This is my world.
I have carved mountains in this land, screamed so loud the sky opened up and the heavens poured down upon us. I have found God sitting at the base of my stomach making herself anew once a month for the last forty years, finally laying her head to rest.
© Ama Akoto (2018)