Hags and Crones

Hags and Crones by Wilderness Sarchild


Hags and crones and bags of bone
The time is short, this life on loan
Oh, to live as long as stones
Oh, for that, I do so jones
Not ready to weep or rot or moan
Just want to live on terms my own

I love the moon, the stars, the fading dusk,
I love how my body still can lust.
In my body’s delight, I do so trust.
I will not rust or turn to dust.
My beating heart, strong and robust,
Pleasure is an old woman’s must.
Pleasure is an old woman’s must.

Ain’t easy carrying all these years
I’m a bundle of laughter, a bushel of tears
I may be brave but I still have fears
Don’t hear so good inside these ears
But my inner voice is loud and clear
She says you are still the one who steers
This precious life that you hold dear

So bring it on, this thing called age
It will only serve to make me sage
I’ll make growing old all the rage
And when I die, there will still be this page
To remind all women that age is not a cage
And not a barometer to gauge
But an invite to enter into a brand new stage
Age is purple and red, not the new beige
So, remember this women,
“RAGE!” I say, “ RAGE!”

Hey wait, my body might look like it’s in decay
But believe me, sister, I still have lots to say
About not wanting to look any other way
And I tell you, the piper I will not pay
If he tries to say, “dear, you’ve had your day.”
No matter what, I’ll do it my way
Won’t ask if I might or if I may
And I can be straight or I can be gay
At no one’s feet will I lay
And don’t try to tell me nay
I will not let you get in my way
I am 60…70…80…90… and I say

I join with the ancestors in the circle round
They’re watching my back, these souls in the ground
They lived through the fire because they are bound
To come back again until I am found.
They will not shut up, they’ll push and they’ll pound
Until they see my power come back around
Into my dance and into my sound.
Around my soul their love has wound,
They teach me to believe I do abound.
My power I’ve found! MY POWER I’VE FOUND!

So call me a hag, a crone, or a witch
Why, you can even call me a bitch
But you may not yet dig my ditch
While I can still dance and I can still twitch
I tell you, getting old is not a glitch
Cause in love and friends I’ve struck it rich
Look at me, I’ve found my niche
Stir the cauldron, not wear a stitch