An Aria for my Mother ( Poem)

An Aria for my Mother

my mother grew up
in Vienna, Austria
home to opera
and many a triumphant aria
sung by passionate singers

now, there's an aria
I sing for my mother
hoping to lift
her spirits
as she walks through
the valley of the shadow

these long winter
days have held
her captive

and the loss of
the car
has been challenging

I try to sing a
sweet sure aria
from an opera
of her choice

something she
remembers
and loves

from her early
days in Vienna
when weekly
visits to the Opera
were her family's habit

I sing a very high
sweet tune
as I hold
her hand

I try to sing long enough
and hit the high notes
confident
that my singing
will bring a smile

there's an aria I sing
when I'm home alone,
thinking of my parents,
it's a song of grief
as I witness their
aging and the
passing of time

I sing each stanza
carefully
as I water the amaryllis
on the kitchen table
with my tears

that flower grows
slowly and
persistently
even when the thermometer
outside the window cannot
register the morning temp

I trust that
when it blooms
my mother will
be blossoming
too.

there's an aria I sing
made of memories of other times
I spin those strands
upon the wheel of time
and allow its turning
rhythms to give me strength
to sing the aria
that accepts times
turning wheels
with grace and wisdom.

written last year. 2009