I have a new poem-piece to share with you, playing with words to express my current moment of post-menopausal sensuality.

May it give you hope if you’re in the heat of it, allay some of the fear if it’s on the horizon, and bring you a smile if you’re on the other side. No matter what your age, may it inspire your Shakti awakening.

Read it below or relax for two minutes now and listen to me tell it for you.

Baby Elder Ecstatic
By Lisa Schrader

Now that the moon brings her
mysterious beauty and changing face
without the bleeding,
you find yourself at the beginning again.

The old ways of thinking still swoop in, looking to roost.
The incessant urging to improve, grasping to belong,
chomping down on the bait of comparison, hooked again.
Striving for an outcome shiny enough to
silence the relentless refrain of the critical companion.

But then the hungry fire arises, consuming the nonsense in a flash,
demanding surrender of all that is no longer necessary
to the woman you are becoming.
Singe your hands as you do with the habit of resistance,
you’re learning.

Into the flames now you regularly feed the lies of dried up and brittle,
the wasted worry.
The change is big. The change is real. You are not the same.
There is so much to letting go.

But you smile too about all that is not spoken.
How as surface sexy shifts, hidden gardens reveal themselves,
full of blossoms you’ve never seen before,
though you recognize their fragrance,
practiced as you are now with a heart accustomed to melting
and breaking wide open,
trusting presence by your side as your true partner,
in a body soft with wisdom,
willing at last to receive.