With my Tribe

For I am with my tribe.

Which to some could be very scary,

For who knows the power of a group,

A gaggle, a conglomeration,

Or whatever the collective noun is

For women of a certain age,

Complete with comfy jumpers,

Dyed hair in all sorts of colours

Statement spectacles

And sensible shoes,

Bemoaning the fact that impending menopause

Makes you itchy and bitchy,

But still makes you horny as hell.

(Did I put my vibrator away before the house sitter came – I can’t remember)

For I am with my tribe.

And we understand each other

On a cellular level.

Something most of us sadly lack

In our everyday lives.

 

These are people who you can happily talk to

About choice and desire

Happiness and grief

Love and sex

Home and work

Wants and needs

And the will to be yourself

(Which I cannot do with other friends

As much as I love them

And this is okay.)

For I am with my tribe.

And for two days,

I have full permission

To just be me.

And I will come away from this:

Replete

Swearing

Rejuvenated

Rambunctious

Horny

And happy.

 

God help the world.

Today's song: