fifties

Looking back at myself

i lost myself
and panicked
like a parent
who lost sight
of their child
— i looked in
all the places
i had been —
looked in all
the corners
of my soul —

it had been
so long since
i had seen
myself that
very nearly
i gave up —

but suddenly
one fall day
on passing
a mirror i saw
acceptance
in an old face
and realized
i don’t need
that little lost
girl anymore

Terri Guillemets

See me, hear me, I am fifty.

the world may see dried-up and irrelevant —
they may not even see me at all —

LOOK!  i’ve re-blossomed with beautiful new petals —
strength, focus, perspective, poetry, silver wisdom —

i am roaring out all that i have held in,
taken on, and put up with — for all my life —

i roar for myself and for all women
i roar at the top of my lungs with all my midlife rage —

LISTEN!  no longer can i do it all, nor do i want to —
i may be getting old, but also i am brand new —

Terri Guillemets

Changing

I used to love leaves changing
falling off the trees, being blown away
to wherever leaves go — but now
after fifty gorgeous autumns and winters
in anthropomorphized fears I wonder:

What if they don’t come back?
what if they’re not strong enough
or reborn or determined enough
what if the tree has just had enough
of storms and harsh seasons
and it’s ready to leave things be
comfortable now baring itself always
without even bothering anymore
maybe it’s too tired to keep blooming
or perhaps green suddenly annoys it
the burgeoning whippersnappers
flaunting verdant youth and beauty.

What if this has been the final fall
because what if I can’t spring back up
and what if I’m a bare branch forever?—

Terri Guillemets