Testimonies

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My face has changed
but that’s okay.
It’s my history
(communing with nature;
teartracks and laughlines).
If a photographer wiped out
all those expression lines
I’d say, “That’s not me!”

My body has changed
but that’s okay.
It’s my history too
marked by motherhood
an accident
adventures
tasty food
and time itself.
It’s my comfy home.

My self has changed
But not so you wouldn’t
recognize me.
I’ve grown from all
I’ve lived, loved
and learned.
I’ve been knocked down
and gotten up stronger and wiser
(I think).
I’ve tried and tested a thousand things
and kept, I hope, the better.

Hippie, convert,
wanderer, writer
linguist, teacher, singer…
All are a part of me
yet none defines me
for self defies definitions.
I’m at home with myself now
but still willing to grow.

My “silver threads”
(sometimes under cover)
are my crown of wisdom
but still no guarantee of such.
I can never live
or love
or learn too much.

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