It comes to us all, every woman,
it's guises many; lingering illness, children grown,
perhaps a job that no longer matters.
We weren't expecting it ~the knock at the door,
a stranger,yet in some uncanny way, familiar~
like a memory from lifetimes ago.
An ancient crone beckons us;
we go, feeling uncertain.
Her arms reach out in welcome.
We melt into her comforting warmth.
The destination of this journey is the same for each~
time to let go, mother no more.
How different we feel, distanced~
as if watching the lives around us from afar.
In our heart the love is there, just as always,
yet changed somehow.
Though compassion remains; no longer do we try futilely
to fix people's lives, relationships, hearts.
We offer love, encouragement, our prayers~ the rest we leave to them.