I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

7 May 2015

A Certain Elder

Her hair is white.
Her years increase.
She has stopped striving.
She cares very little now
how she may be judged.
Quietly, she pleases herself.

She is named Crone
in her Tradition,
wise advisor in need
even to High Priestess,
High Priest.
This surprises her.
She doesn't feel wise.

There have been
fears and struggles.
There have been
many tears, much rage.
Yet, after all of that,
she still loves her life.

More and more
old friends reminisce
about old times — when,
they say, she encouraged
realisation of their dreams.
This too surprises her.
She has forgotten.

She still, always, delights
in the earth and the stars,
the sky and the ocean,
the animals and the trees.
Walking around her town,
she is greeted warmly by name.

Various young women
claim her as mentor,
thank her for all she teaches.
Some men say the same.
This surprises her most of all. 
She wonders, what things
do they learn?


Written in response to Midweek Motif — Honoring our Elders at Poets United.

16 comments:

  1. The Crone sounds like a beautiful & strong individual :D
    xoxo

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  2. It's the Crone's version of being honored so justly...a soul like this deserves this...a beautiful poem Rosemary...by the way your link is not working & this is Marcoantonio Arellano's link i used, to come to your site..

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    1. Thanks, Sumana. I might have to wait for Susan to fix things then.

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    2. Ok, I will. I also took a round-about to get here.

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  3. This is lovely. I hope I can be that old crone someday. (You don't need to visit - I haven't had time to do this prompt.)

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  4. I love the truth of this poem. Though I think I know who this is, it could be my 91 year old mother! I think surprise becomes her! Everything is completely genuine. There is no job inflation here at all. ANd if she had known all along what effect she had on people, it might not be so!

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  5. Rosemary,

    It is nice when an elder feels valued and actually knows that. Too often, words go unsaid, during life..The crone is a wise woman!!

    Eileen

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  6. Sncere humility is wonderful to witness as well as sincere appreciation. Nice that your crone has both. Lovely write Rosemary.

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  7. I love, especially, that she still delights in the earth, the stars and the critters. Beautiful, Rosemary!

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  8. Yes, as Susan says, I think I know who this could be as well. It must be wonderful to be thought of as mentor by younger women. I think many of us would strive for this but few would attain it. I think there might be nothing better than to be remembered as one who encouraged realization of others' dreams.

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  9. She still, always, delights
    in the earth and the stars,
    the sky and the ocean,
    the animals and the trees.
    Walking around her town,
    she is greeted warmly by name.

    Such a nice feeling to be allowed to share fondly in remembering a Crone! Made out to be such a wonderful personality! It certainly rubs on you Rosemary!

    Hank

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  10. I think you are right in the sense that there is always more to learn in the sense of being wise...maybe we don't see it in ourselves when others rightly do...

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  11. It is good people remember how much living and learning the elders have done.

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  12. It is good that the old crone is appreciated and inspirational for younger women. Elders should be respected.

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  13. I like that the sparkling wonder lives in her heart, it's indeed very respectful certain elder ;)x

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  14. In order to respect our elders, I think we need to learn to respect ourselves whatever age we are. The funny thing about growing older is that we often do not feel the age we really are. Your elderly "crone" thinks and feels like a young woman, I believe. Lovely poem, Rosemary.

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