At Seventy

When I look into the mirror,
I see silver hair, a well-lined
face, a drooping jawline and
crinkly neck...eyebrows thinned
and marked with white, eyes no longer
blue but greying, like all the rest.
But all of this is surface stuff,
the "me" seen at first glance
by folks I pass on streets, in
supermarket aisles, or in the pews
of Sunday morning church...
the ones who never go beneath
the aging surface to see the
interesting, intelligent, fanciful,
and often funny "me", the "me" I really am.

                                        How can they know that every
                                        line that marks my face, each
                                        silver hair gracing my head has
                                        been hard-won...earned along
                                        my journey's way, badges of
                                        of courage which mark the path...
                                        signs of tears and laughter limned
                                        deep into the very heart of
                                        who I truly am...making and shaping
                                        me into this woman of a certain age
                                        who gazes in the mirror at her
                                        here-and-now self and sees the
                                        past and present merge into a
                                        glorious creation, filled with
                                        courage, wisdom, strength, compassion-
                                        a thing of beauty to behold...
                                        and wonder, how will the coming
                                                              years unfold?