Time

I will not wait till I am old

to sing the age-old wisdom in me;

Nor will I cease

because the years fly lightly by

to sing my girl-child self.

I am here, now, and beautiful!

What better place

for all hopes and all truths

to live their dreams in?

"If now me, who? If not now, when?”

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This life that once rushed by me,

today it rushes through me.

What can this life do to me, what more?

What once I sought to enter,

so earnestly and shyly,

now finds me at the center;

I am the gate, the door!

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Like the moon, I am empty; I am full.

Like the tides I am guided by Her pull.

Like an egg with its wedded white and yolk,

I can cry and I can joke.

In my fragile, sturdy shell,

mind and heart united dwell.

I am old. Safe within Her,

I am whole!

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Time has taken Her toll.

Time has made me Her own,

worked all Her wonders,

cut to the bone. 

She has tempered with fire,

reaped what was sown,

given me wisdom:

I am never alone!

Time may take what She will.

On Her wings, I have flown.

She calls me Her daughter,

and names me Crone.

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Time is dancing on my face

with little crone’s feet,

wrinkling, tickling, feathered grace,

at a leisurely pace,

taking Her own sweet...

time.

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How can I hurry when eternity waits

like the breathless moment

between two breaths?

Let this sweet breath be a caress, a kiss,

brushing the starry cheek of Mystery

with love: eternal now! 

and if She loves me back, perhaps,

I breathe again.

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When you're done writing a poem,

with batter on your fingers,

it’s exactly time

to take the cake out of the oven.

Dream-cake

tastes better than any other kind,

with timeless pauses

taken between bites.

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The water dances. Sunlight dances and teases.

Are we old?  We are timeless! 73! 84! 40! 35!

Nine-year old twins!

We are naked. We are white, we are black.

We are female. We are laughing. We are strong.

Our bodies undulate, dance,

caressed by water, by light and shadow.

We are surprised to see how beautiful we are.

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New Year arrived one second late, a timely tickle,

occasion to praise the Goddess of Uncertainty!

Atomic clocks say the year needs adjustment

(just a little bit of syncopation)

to keep up with the wiggle of the Cosmic Dancer!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018