"Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry, you will be dead before--"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!"

- May Sarton

Now I Become Myself

Now I Become Myself is an anthem for radical ageing. Older lesbians have spent decades fighting, building, hiding, or calling to be heard. Now, one of the most radical things we can do is drop the performance and step into our own unshakeable gravity.

Dropping Borrowed Masks

We navigated a world that wanted us quiet, straight, or compartmentalised. We played roles at work, in birth families, and in early relationships. Ageing strips away the need for compliance. Every sign of ageing marks a mask we had the courage to burn.

Standing Still

Patriarchy tells older women – especially older lesbians – to become invisible. Sarton commands the exact opposite: take up space with absolute authority.