I heard a scorched, aching voice.
At first it sounded like shouting;
then I thought it would cry out.
Instead, it poured itself gently,
turning into notes.
It was so beautiful—my God—
for the first time
I wanted to be
something other than myself.
That voice…
Drops began to fall,
one after another.
Was it music? A sound? A word?
Or was it meaning itself?
Then it ended.
I froze.
What was I to do now?
I had heard it once;
I could not let it go.
I followed it, held it,
caught it,
dragged the voice back by the collar,
forced it into verse.
It sang; I cried.
I was ashamed.
I cried again for what I’d done,
and sighed.
At that moment I woke
and remembered.
Of course !… it was my mother.
The voice I heard,
my one true voice, was hers.
And it was saying,
“Lullaby, lullaby, for my daughter…”
I reached for the phone.
“Mom!!! thank God you exist.”
Beril YABAR
