For Big Tent Poetry prompt: Something that’s been sitting for a while
Heard the song once, years ago.
Only remember few words from chorus:
“She’s a gray-haired woman, coming
into her own, coming into her own.”
Wondering what that meant, to come
into one’s own. Finally finding home,
or something else, something deeper?
Used to be a roamer, restless for change.
Rearranging path, exchanging destinations.
Now content to encourage others to dance.
Prefer staying where planted, slanting
view with little movement. Leaning into
familiar, finding comfort in own learning.
Pacing self, no longer racing toward
newness for newness’ sake. Taking
what is offered, giving back what
is mine to give, without over-extending.
Bending when I can, leaving quietly when
I can not. Simplicity has necessary ease,
which pleases as never before.
Am gray-haired woman, coming into my own.
Finding home within thin skin of life lived. No
chasing after happily ever-after, accepting
grace in certain contentment.
Elizabeth Crawford 5/6/11
Notes: Found this piece while looking through some files last week. Set it aside for a better look. Then found today’s prompt and knew what I would do. The poem was much longer, I cut the first two stanzas completely and about five or six other lines as well. Altered a few word choices. This version is more satisfying in a way, but am still not sure I actually like the thing. It may have to go through a few more revisions.