The Rubin is transforming. Read important updates from our Executive Director.
  • Uma Bista, Poem Transcript

I am resting on my bed,
My body has become unconscious.
Listless, I wish this body would disappear
into this bed.
Let this pain I have
every month
also vanish with my body.

My 7-year-old niece asks
why am I in such pain?
She tries to make me feel better, draws on my hand –
a heart and a butterfly.
She knows how to draw
my attention to other things.


My mom never wants to see me in any physical pain.
She worries every month,
She cooks whatever I crave for.
Every so often, she tells me to drink warm water.
Still, she keeps her distance. She won’t touch me.
If I touch her, she grows irritated, Screaming at me:


“I will get sick!”
“I have to worship God!”
“I will become impure!