The flourishing membrane

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?