I thought that the colour for menopause was pink
an anemic form of red
speaking only of femininity and romance
basking in what it is and
what it not quite is
I thought this was logical
seeing as it followed after the deep purple
of heightened sex
and the blazing orange
of hot flashes and fiery
storms of emotions leading to
life-changing decisions

But it’s not pink
after all

It’s red
deep and spicy and smouldering
what is released after the supernova of the ovaries
not an ending but
an accumulation of all of the lessons
and colours
now incorporated and
burned into the fabric of being
flaming still



Colours of Transition


When I felt the first shift of perimenopause
my favourite colours became Silver and Deep Purple
Silver called to me like the moon
mystical and feminine with the elusive majesty
of light sparkling on snow-covered ground
While Deep Purple spoke to me of my rich sexual life
my intensified drive for life-giving expressions

In the energetic midst of perimenopause
my favourite colour burst forth as Orange
like the flames of hot flashes and emotions
that burned over me and through me
all with a thrust towards happiness

With the full emergence into menopause
my thoughts are consumed with images of Pink rose petals
Resting in my innate loveliness
My attention effortlessly drawn to beauty
As I yield to the elixir of romance

Accepting All of Him


I encompass him
in the feminine softness of my embrace
welcoming and safe
allowing him to be focused
to determine his own rhythms
I match his dance
moving with him
as he plots the course for where he is taking us both
with the totality of who he is
and releasing into me
where there is room for each of us

Aching for Living Stories of What Never Was

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my belly has swelled with life
and the union between my lover and I
has entwined into physical forms
and breathed?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where the children who were never able to be conceived in this reality
are alive and well and dancing
as they endlessly strew their vibrant and pulsing colours
throughout my saturated days?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where these offspring are birthing versions of myself
that would be impossible for me to evolve into
while blockaded by my barren state?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my choices
and the betrayals of my body
have not pronounced the final verdict
and where my lavish fruitfulness is unfolding
in the creation of persons
with countless future generations on the edge of greeting me
as we bleed across the threshold
into the realm of eternity?



through the conduit of his touch
I float on wave after wave after wave
of pleasure
straddling the bridge between
wakefulness and dream
sinking and rising with the current
as his masculinity envelopes me
expands my femininity
creating the space for me to take him in
to focus him
call him forth
where he surges
crests and spills
leaving me

It is a Privilege[1]
It is a privilege to love you
It is a privilege to open my heart wide to you
To let your love shape me
To entwine my life with yours
In the most intimate of embraces

It is a privilege
To sink with you
Through all of our pain
And to soar with you
As our loves heals us and dreams
To dance with you on waves of laughter
And wander the infinite pathways of our imaginings

It is a tremendous privilege
A vulnerable and overwhelming privilege
To live the honour of being your wife

You are my heart

Woman Walking Naturally

In the orbit of her hips
lies the blossom of her sexuality
evidence of orgasms
that have released her restraints
her luscious fullness
defying the confines of socially endorsed
anorexic moulds

She is unbound
the wellsprings of her sensuality
flowing up and over every curve

And so she sways her hips
walks unrushed
a living, breathing antidote
to cultural pathogens
threatened by the fruitful, unscripted, mesmerizing power
of natural womanhood

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