At your voice on the recording,
a tear plows down
the slope of my cheek.
I hadn’t really been listening
to the message playing,
too distracted by a chore,
until something umbilical
in my blood tuned in
to the tenderness
on the machine,
to the sound that’s been there
since before my life began.
The daughter in me heard
what the rest of me didn’t
and she wept a tear to know you
are still there, but won’t always be.

Play Notes: During this pandemic, it's a great sadness in my life that I can only be with my mother via the phone or FaceTime. Perhaps you, too, are estranged from someone you love. Write them a poem? I read this one to my mother, and we both got teary.