pegi eyers art by Elena Ray All pretense is stripped away in the Old Crone years - she has seen too much, done too much, and has already known the intimate agony of ongoing chronic pains - joints and bones and faculties fading, and the loss of strength. What has she got to lose? By sheer will alone she rises from her slumber and slowly enters the forest, the abandoned field, the jumbled hedgerow, and finds the strength to uncover the earth-encrusted apple branches carelessly buried under the farmer's plow, to free the hidden buds struggling for life, caked dirt under her taloned nails, blood oozing in small scrapes from the dried branches and hawthorn spikes. She doesn’t care, as she smooths and untangles, soothes and whispers, sings and encourages, apologizes and supports - the tiny buds appear, take breath and hold the light - and she makes amends for everyday ecocide. Her healing gestures find the green fuse under the tangle. Pushing herself beyond the limits of her physicality, she lifts the heaviest branches, clears the matted grass, and moves the tumbled stones. Stabbing headache, chapped lips, sore knees and hair full of catkins – the Old Crone is nothing like the sterilized archetypes. No, she is not the noble witch, measured and wise. She is something much more – dark, rank and feral - a rabid unkempt force who gives no fucks for the soft comforts of the self, but only for the restoration of the hedgerow and the health of the forest. What else matters to the Old Crone? Eyes fading but hands holding, her love enfolds the chain of life - the tiny buds, the creatures of the soil, the deer in the distance, and the birds keeping her company on the branch, singing their songs of surprise and approval. The Old Crone does the nurturing work of the Earth Mother – mother and daughter both, as they are one and the same. There is no other reason for being, except to remediate the damage caused by the death-dealing patriarchs, and to care for Earth Community. Pegi Eyers, May 5, 2026 The Crone teaches us to let go of attachment to the physical and embrace the cycles of life and death. Death is coming for us all and if we found a way to become more comfortable with that, maybe we wouldn't banish the Crone to the shadows. Patti Smith
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
feral bio
|
RSS Feed
