Tag Archives: Women

On Becoming a Crone

 

aging is not stealthy, like some ninja warrior

sneaking up and nunchucking me from behind

new lines and wrinkles appear in the mirror daily

whether I choose to acknowledge them or remain in denial,

I am surprised when I bend down to pick up something I’ve dropped again

to feel a new twinge or stab catch my breath

and when that happens I say, “oh I feel you now”.

 

aging is not beautiful; the silver framing my face may be precious

but only as a reward for all the courage I’ve revealed

the soft curves of my body are not a sign of vulnerability,

but symbolize the great expanse of my soul,

today I treasure really looking people in the eye,

saying aloud, “I like your smile, your sweater, your care”

and when that happens I sigh, “I hope I made a difference.”

 

aging is not inevitable; we are blessed with each bonus day,

another moment to tell a loved one they are beloved.

I try to halt the peevishness I feel towards the flesh hanging from my arms

by assuring myself that I now have angels wings and then,

I laugh at myself because crones aren’t always angels,

sometimes we transform into bitches, refueling our wrath

and when that happens, I whisper, “can you see me now?”

 

aging is not in the mind where I will always remain 30,

while my body changes and prepares for the next transition

I forgive myself for the days when I wheeze like an organ needing repair

for truly I am an oak tree with strong roots, able to dance in the wind,

yet curious, wilely and wild enough to

March on Washington while proudly shouldering a rainbow flag a little higher

and when that happens can you hear me roar?

 

silver power is not for the faint hearted,

look us in the eyes if you dare, discount us at your peril

you will see tigers baring their teeth, or what remains of them,

listen closely, you will hear us growl, we are becoming crones,

we care more for serenity and less for what others think

with less to lose we are reckless and daring

and when that happens, will you miss us sneaking up behind you?

© Mari Selby, August 6, 2017

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A Little Night Magic

night's womb

Excerpt from the poem “Crazy Wisdom” published in Lightning Strikes Twice

dreaming the primordial word

I nestle in the palm of night’s hand visible yet empty

blinking in the radiance of the galactic eye

embracing whole worlds of the eye within the eye

perching on my shoulder angels sing hallelujah

invisible paws padding by my feet whisper put faith in every pace

smelling restless noise the tip of my tail twitches I lick my lips

don’t stop me before I am lost

curling up against night’s belly her great head turns towards me

her gaze stars full of mercy and magic

accepting timeless wonder my breath embraces dakinis devas

the dry rattle of skulls following every movement

praising the diamond night

I am the crazy wisdom of no hope and no fear

A Womb with a View

demonstrations2

Forty thousand women stand up and claim their wombs back!

The thunder of their drumming feet as they march,

the harsh echoes of their raucous cries

abruptly wakens people everywhere, in cities,

within verdant farmlands,

and in sleepy villages’ people’s nerves jump

and twitch from the shouting

“no more, you cannot have more of me!” Continue reading