They Say That with Age You Become Invisible—That You’re No Longer Important, That You’re in the Way….

They say that with age, you become invisible

That youre no longer important. That youre in the way.

They say it with such chilling indifference, it stings
as if fading from sight is an unspoken clause in the contract of growing old.
As though you must simply accept your place in the corner
becoming just another object in the sitting room
silent, motionless, out of mind and out of the way.

But I wasnt born for the shadows.

I wont ask for permission to take up space.
I wont hush my voice just to soothe uneasy hearts.
I didnt enter this world only to whittle myself away,
or shrink down so that others wont feel discomfort.

No, gentlemen.

At my agewhile some wait for me to wither
I choose to set alight.

I make no apologies for my wrinkles.
I wear them with pride.

Each line is a signature of my journey
proof that I have loved, that I have laughed, that I have wept, that I have endured.

I refuse to stop being a woman because I no longer fit into someones narrow lens,
or because my joints sigh at the thought of high heels.

I remain desire.
I remain inventiveness.
I remain freedom.

And if that gratesso be it.

I do not hide my silver hair.
Id feel shame only if I hadnt lived long enough to earn it.

I wont extinguish myself.
I wont surrender.
And I wont step backstage.

I am still a dreamer.
I still laugh heartily.

I still dancehowever I can.

I still call out to the heavens, saying I have so much more to say.

I am not a memory.

I am presence
a smouldering flame,
a living soul.

A woman marked by scars
one who no longer needs emotional crutches.
A woman who does not wait for someone elses approval to know her power.

So dont call me poor thing.
Dont disregard me because I am older.

Call me courageous.

Call me strength.

Call me by my name
in a steady voice, glass raised high.

Call me Sylvia.

And let it be known:
I am still here
standing tall, with a soul that burns bright.