Song of the Crone (to the Creator`s children)

May the love

of a hundred lifetimes

Hold you

 caress you as you dream.

May all the joys

you have given others

Be returned to you

a thousand fold

Whilst you

are making dreams 

come true for others

From your  loving

heart of gold.

May you walk

in the Sunlight of the Spirit.

May you dance in rain.

May the joys

of a thousand rainbows

Be yours

time and time again. 

May you discover

the secrets

that are hidden

In every rock, tree and flower.

May you know

you walk on holy ground 

Each and every hour.

May you honour

your commitments.

May you love

with all your might.

May you “gift”

 your ears in

compassion

to others

Who are crying in the night.

May you take

each rose bud

treasure it

 give it love

 release it  

upon the wind.

Do all

these things

in the name

of the Creator 

My darling little child.

You then  will have a life

giving  praise 

To all you meet.

Then at the closing

of your days

You can

walk on humble feet. 

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I am the Crone

Umbrella (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I sit alone in the rain

wondering if the tears

have made the rain salty

or if the rain

has made the tears

smell like flowers. 

English: An orange cloth umbrella. Français : Une ombrelle en tissu orange. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Crone and the Pine (A parable of love for Valentines and everyday)

“I have no valentine to give.”,

thought  the crone to the solitary pine.

She spoke now aloud,

“I would love to gather your cones to refresh my home,

My back it will not bend.”

“I have pine cone Valentines for you

in these outstretched arms of mine.

My love to you I will send.  “

So, the crone and the pine continued their romance

As around the tree she merrily pranced.

“You were mistaken old friend,

when you said you had no gift.

Having you accept  my offering of cones

(that were safely nestled in my branches)

Brought your loving touch to me

which gave my heart a lift. “

The crone cannot marry the pine.

 The tree will not take a human for a wife.  

The  crone has tended to the needs of  the   tree.

The pine gathers the dreams for her  to seed,

Dances with the dreams for  her in the wind.

How many times are there

romances we cannot see,

do not know, will never learn?

 On this day of celebration of “romantic” love….

How many other kinds of love  do we over look? 

Thank you dear crone and solitary pine

for bringing this love

into this heart of mine.

  It will soon flow out my fingers

for all the world to see

the every day, everlasting love

between the old woman and the tree. 

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“Willowing” waif, I am not……

Preview

“Willowing” waif, I am not.

I am an aging crone.

I have learned a lot. 

Most of everything I have learned

Is that “I know nothing when  Your love I spurn”.

When I forget to give thanks

for the miracles of my day:

(My mind wanders away

from the beauty), 

I begin to stray. 

I ache and  “grump“

 begin to complain

I lose my focus on Thee

make a big deal of pain.

 Dis-ease is the gift I give my self,

when I leave your grace upon the shelf. 

“Willowing” waif, I am not.

I am an aging crone.

I have learned a lot. 

Most of everything I have learned

Is that “I know nothing when Your  love I spurn”.

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The temptress hiding within the crone

English: Temptress II; Oil on Board (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Temptress (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The temptress hiding within the crone

Challenged life, she was not alone.

She danced on the wind,

she rode the stars.

Her voice was as mellow

as a thousand guitars.

The songs she sang

to beg you stay;

Led you further  home

along the narrow way. 

The temptress hiding within the crone

Challenged life, she was not alone.

She danced on the wind,

she rode the stars,

Her voice was as mellow

as a thousand guitars.

Fire in the heart of the crone…

Hesquiat woman wrapped in a shawl. Nederlands: Vrouw bedekt haar hoofd, hals en schouders met een grote sjaal. Português: Mulher Hesquiat envolta em xaile. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She pulls the shawl tighter

to keep out the cold.

She sits again, alone,

on a long week-end,

learning

how not to be old.

Reading and searching

trying to find a place to put her love.

Most of all trying to put the past far behind.  

“How could it happen?

 How could it be?

One moment, you loved me….

then you wanted to be free?” 

She screams this to the ghost of her beloved.

“What will it take to be finally free of him?” she wonders aloud.

Distance did not work.

Detachment did not work.

Other men….now she smiles a big grin.

“That, that almost worked…”

She pulls the shawl tighter

to keep out the cold.

She sits again, alone,

on a long week-end,

learning

how not to be old.

Reading and searching

trying to find a place to put her love.

Most of all trying to put the past far behind.  

 

The Crone remembers her Song as the Virgin Maid.

Cruising the St. Lawrence Seaway (1000 Islands, St. Lawrence River) (Photo credit: Robert Scott Photography)

Dark Island, a prominent feature of the St. Lawrence Seaway, is located in the lower (eastern) Thousand Islands region, near Chippewa Bay. Dark Island Castle was recently renamed “Singer Castle”, because it was built for Frederick Gilbert Bourne, president of the Singer Manufacturing Company , producer of the Singer Sewing Machine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Crone remembers her Song as the Virgin Maid.

 

I must go to be in the water: be it the sea, the Ocean the river, the lake or a pond

I want to immerse myself in its cleansing. I want to float in it all day long.

I want to be sustained
I want to be in love again.
I want to be re-connected to life.
I want the moments of holding you close.
I want to be your wife.

I want to re-connect with myself.
To take me out on a date.
I want to give me the best I can.
I want to be my own “wife.”

Gosh, I can hardly wait.

I must go to the sea
To the river
To the lake or a pond
I want to immerse myself in its cleansing.
I want to float in it all day long.

I want to keep my heart open.
I want my heart to sing.
I want to jump in that wonderful
Ocean filled with Love and Mercy.
I want to hear my own name.

I want to see the Creator of All.
I want to hear His Voice.
I want to be in His Service.
I want my life to Rejoice.

I must go down to the sea
To the river
To the lake or a pond
I want to immerse myself in its cleansing.
I want to float in it all day long.

I want to hear my own name.

I want the “knowledge of the ages”
That flowed on bended knee
I want the Creator of All…
(I want His Love) to flow through me.

I want to keep my heart open.
I want my heart to sing.
I want to jump in that wonderful
Ocean filled with Love and Mercy.
I want to hear my own name.

I must go down to the sea
To the river
To the lake or a pond
I want to immerse myself in its cleansing.
I want to float in it all day long.

 

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66 summers today

Today I am

 66 summers.

I am a product of  the thunder and lightning of childhood.

I am a  surviror in the gentle healing rains of puberty.

I often  walk down the streets of canals

through the corridors of time.

 I still tilt windmills.

In this moment

I am the glorious

 66 summers in full  bloom.

for I hear your Voice

of  Love

in All and awe

 every second

of my life.

 
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