Thalia (/θəˈlaɪə/; Ancient Greek: Θάλεια, Θαλία; "the joyous, the flourishing"
Breaking through Breaking through the membrane Of turning 60 Letting go of Youth, maidenhood and giving birth Entering the world Of crones and seniors with purple-grey hair. Wise witches who stand By old dark shedding trees they sweep the cobwebs away My repellent membrane. Holding me back Calls of youth, music, and romance Death must be a friend Calm and gentle friends It’s my heart I worry about! Will my tenacity be strong enough To make It through the membrane Will I be whisked up By my elder ancestors? My hands that look like grandmother’s My need for love, friendship and companionship Will I take my magic with me The golden thread that brings meaning to old age? Mystery, adventure, humor and longing Will these qualities still inspire me As my muses tease Will my muses be waiting for me On the other side as I wrestle With this dark and flourishing membrane?