Old Woman Rising

I feel her trying to emerge, pawing, prowling –
my Old Woman,
she who awaits me.
She is a caged tiger, pacing.
Her growls rumble within,
righteous roaring writhing wrath.
She is growing stronger.
She will intimidate,
once she roams free –
and not just me.
My Old Woman is gnarly,
rooted,
with the strength of green wood
and the memories of dried built into her bones.
Old Woman, I salute you,
impatient beneath my skin.
I too am plotting your escape.

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