On the Threshold of the Crone 2

Maiden. Mother. Crone. In this moment, I sit On the Threshold of the Crone. I am no longer a Maiden, that proverbial ship sailed many years ago. I am not yet a Crone, but I hear the song deep in my cells, pulling on the tides of my plasma. My hands are beginning to show the outward signs of my work. The hundreds of babies that have passed through them are leaving their mark. I am proud of these hands and the care they display. I walk on this path, serving my families, gathering knowledge and experience as I go. Tying and braiding these elements into my soul.  I feel this bridge approaching, the bridge that will carry me from the threshold to the full embrace of the Crone. I open myself to this journey and the new gifts it will bestow.

These words have been rattling around in my brain, floating to the surface. My body, soul and mind feel in transition. Walking through this time, this space in between feels scary, exciting, exhausting and vulnerable. As a Midwife, I have learned that the other side of transition is well worth the struggle. I will continue to breathe through this journey, open to what the path presents and ready to receive the new wisdom.

On the Threshold of the Crone

On the Threshold of the Crone

I lay open;

Neither here nor there, floating in the space between

Saying a farewell while preparing a welcome

Deep in my bones the marrow is changing.


I lay open;

Cracked and raw, bleeding on the bare stones

Soft ruby liquid steaming down the steps

My soul transforms and prepares to be reborn.


I lay open;

Filling with the knowledge of ages

Liberated from the bindings of youth

Illusions fall away and my eyes are clear


Image credit Aubre Tompkins, CNM

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