Our Opera
Poetry Sunday
You knew me
before words,
when love was tender rocking
to the humming
of lullabies.
You always made me feel
protected,
swaddled by the memory
of your velvet
musical voice.
You collected my stories
like a hymnal of your devotion,
chanting words
to transform prose to ethereal song,
a joyous chorus
of us.
You are here
but words are now ghosts:
swirling, vaporous apparitions
of meaning
that cast ephemeral shadows
in your mind.
Maybe
if I sing an aria,
bright and passionate,
you can remember
me now.
Maybe
my ascendant soprano
can hover above like clouds
to absorb the teardrops of my words
as they evaporate.
Maybe
we can sing together
with the exhilarating power
of your beloved opera,
to recall how you illuminated
our lives
like a starburst of music.
I want to hum
a simple tune
so that we can be together again
without words.
