Paradoxically Yours...

Cause for Cerebration

(prompt: 'reflection' 21/7/17)

Her first shimmery glimpse of herself thoroughly frightened her, even though the moonlight softened her harshest features, the many folds merging to make a more kindly portrait.

Until now, she had been mostly walking meekly along the pathway designated as 'Old Age Lane'. Too often bowed by the weight of the accumulated knowledge and wisdom of her long life, the negative opinions of thoughtless others chipped away relentlessly at her own feelings of self-worth.

Once upon a long time ago, we were revered for our wisdom; for the truths we had learned through our countless cycles of Life, she thought - and a sad longing welled in her heart. Our place was firm in the unfolding drama - the spiritual midwives at the end of life - a crucial link between death and rebirth.

As the keepers of traditions and custodians of legends, our presence demanded respect, acceptance, affection - and the deepest appreciation that we were the link between those who travelled before us, sharing all they learned - and the generations yet to come. Will they see our like again? Will they understand and value our special gifts to all? We have been healers of accidents and ills with our sacred power and knowing of Life's mysteries - the same traits and 'gifts' that allow us to mediate between the spirit world and our own.

The world around her lightened gently, as the first glow of the 'sun to be' coloured the landscape. It wasn't easy (or even possible) to straighten her old spine fully anymore, but she did her best. Even more difficult to look honestly at the reflection staring wistfully and wishfully back at her through the crystal waters of the creek, silent and still now at this dawning moment of a new day.

Strangely - thankfully - she saw something new in her familiar cracks and crevices, the facial roadmap of her life. Hope shone again in the depths of those dark, knowing eyes. Hope born of memories. A slideshow of proud moments when her many strengths and achievements had saved the day countless times in that long life flowed behind her closed eyelids.

In her heart and soul she was able to shake off the tragedies of too many yesterdays, and put them firmly on the back shelf, where they belonged. Maybe now and then the time would be right to take them out, dust them off and re-examine and learn from them. But not repeat them. Never again.

I am the Crone, she thought proudly and her heart lifted. I have lived long and learned much of value. I DO know my worth among all women - even old women. I HAVE earned the right to be called an Elder - most respectfully, appreciatively and lovingly.

I AM THE CRONE.

Author's Note:       Unable to do last week's prompt due to health and visitor issues, but the word 'dark' popped up in this story - so maybe we could call it a somewhat sneaky, most belated dual effort this time, Paul? As my story suggests, it's time to be kind to little old ladies!