Alchemy

I have become that older woman
the one who walks to work
in dress slacks and running shoes
who stops to photograph flowers
on the side of the road

I have become that older woman
whose perky backside and luxurious mane
still inspire whistles from the rear view
eagerness that shrinks from the front
sight of frosted temples
and tired eyes

I have become that older woman
who wears purple and sensible shoes
who craves sleep over sex
prefers deep conversations to nightclubs
chooses in over out
who says “no!” and
“I really meant it!” and
“I’m not going to work harder than you anymore!” and
“don’t you EVER do that again!”

I still care about what others think
but less so
I still refresh my lip gloss
and listen
I just hear my inner voice more clearly
see truth more swiftly
speak less cautiously

When did I become this older woman?

The day my bleeding began to falter?
The day my heart broke for the last time?
The day I noticed the women like me
in my favorite boutique
were the moms and not the customers?
Or when I realized life
was half over?

Now that my life is half over
I wonder
what will become of this older woman?

What is her new alchemy?
How will I convert this fading
into flame?

© S. Rinderle, 3/4/15

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Alchemy

  1. I really like how this piece begins with statements and ends with questions. Life: now. And remember when we were teens? “The day my heart broke for the last time?…” No, no. It will break a million times more before we die. Proof we’re ageless, that question in this poem. ❤

  2. Such a powerful poem, Susana … so beautifully expressed!
    I do hope that you can share your wonderful work with our Fixed and Free audience soon … maybe March 26?
    Billy Brown

  3. Hi again Kim! Yup! When I was writing it, I meant “latest” or “most recent” and when I found myself writing “last” I liked it because I think it can be interpreted either way. I liked that too because I found myself wondering whether or not my heart will really ever break again — loss for sure, grief for sure, pain for sure — but it’s been a few years since a loss made me feel like I was going to die. I don’t know if this is good or bad, but I do feel stronger and more able to risk and love as a result.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s