Ave Maria

​

And you think

the canary is still under training to finish

an entire aria?

Then you expect,

the bird will bring back all past feelings,

sing for a heavenly tomorrow.

Like a human

singing for the world,

ascends to a divine grandeur.

 

Brilliance, brightness.

Nothing but majestic,

lighting up, splendid

in every corner.

 

A human, though,

needs time to hide.

Time to live in the dark.

Time to sense the sensation,

cruising in both gloom and bliss.

Time to let the music meander

and curl up the soul,

even for a little while.

 

Life has a way to dwell a bit longer.

Until the boot-high dried leaves

clutter the boulevard,

clog gutters, choke drains.

Winter, after all, is coming.

Cold as usual.

​

Warm used to be only immersed

under the chandelier

with adorers’ adulations.

A brief ray of sunlight

through the thick cloudy sky.

 

Fall, winter, spring.

Again and again,

asking the purpose of the next song.

Crying she never sang for herself.

 

Oh, Maria!1

It was all framed,

all forced,

all the same archetype.

 

Not till her last spring,

she witnessed the songbirds

that came every year.

Forget the tessitura, timbre,

no appoggiatura, coloratura…

 

Just listen…

 

The birds sing for themselves,

not for you, for me, or for the world.

Not to say hello or goodbye.

 

They just sing.

​

Audience or not.

Applause or not.

 

They sing.

They sing.

 

 

 

1.Inspired by the movie “Maria.”