How old would you be if you didn't know your age. Golda Meir   A dear friend's mother died this week. She was ninety-five. I only met her one time, but I heard she had a good long life. She lived in the retirement home where another friend's ninety-three-year-old mother lives. My aunt lives there too. She's going on ninety-eight. And I still see her as the beauty she was in her thirties, forties, and fifties. I wrote the poems for Paul Blieden's book of photography, The Emerging Goddess. I dedicate this poem to these ladies. They are in my heart. Aging Goddesses The crones our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, old friends, and teachers walk arm in arm in pairs each one supporting the other on the old cobble-stoned streets. They are squat, stout with veiny legs and thick ankles, their bare feet in flat sandals showing jagged toenails or clothed in thick hose and wide oxfords. Some move slowly barely able to walk, clutching each other for … [Read more...]