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♥ MY GREYING CROWN ♥
I’m wearing my hair
grey brindle brown
Getting used to it this way,
no more denial,
me on trial.
I want to learn to love these lines,
Anxious lines sketched into my face
that no crème can erase,
Lines that assure that I exist
resist removal,
Need my approval.
Face, you’re getting older
softer and yet bolder
Eyes fierce yet calm show the years,
the belly laughs and torrent tears,
Wisdom rounding the edges:
Can I love this face?
The past I can’t erase
chisled here for all to see
an elder me….
I check my breasts: round and full
Youngish tits
never suckled a child
Hips still shaped lean and wild,
a girlish body
with an elder’s skin,
browned and tan, worn and thin.
Marks, spots dot my arm
need acceptance, not my alarm
that I am 50 now,
Girlchild, Woman, Crone, somehow
all hang together inside this skin,
this heart, this mind, body I’m in.
Wanna wear my hair
Grey brindle brown.
It’s rather nice,
My greying crown.
~ Marcia Singer, June 1994 ~
