A gray-haired lioness
stretches beside me
to the hymns of
her own consciousness.
Her body sags, skin twists,
her scars will not hide.
She’s lived too much life to
shroud any shame.
Her shame is there for us to behold
and I will not look away.
She has bloomed and faded
the fate and fear
of every living woman.
Yet,
she is at peace.
She does not need your applause.
She looks to me, at me, in me,
perhaps seeing a shadow
of a former life.
I hold her gaze,
the world fades to background noise.
She is still; my body quivers.
Time seems to wait for us
to make meaning of this moment.
Namaste, namaste
the world cracks open,
the room empties,
she is gone.
Then
as if a vision struck
the center of my being
I see myself
old and
still tender
still dreamy
wondering why
I was so scared.
I cry out to that
goddess woman
but the world
swallows my screams.
And she
is silent
holding the secrets of the future
tightly to her heart
as if to say:
just wait.
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