roots and wings

This is a poem about a piano.

A piano that arrived late,

And perfectly on time.

A piano carrying root energy that settled into my home like a long lost friend- on the day I was rushing across town, between clients, 

at the last minute,

To fetch my visa.

A visa that will take me, on giant grey wings,

Further than I have ever been before.

Last night,

when I closed the packed case,

I found myself whispering,

I'm going to Canada, Mom.

And as I write this, I am sad with longing for her. The grief lifts thoughts and memories from my heart.

And I remember, that her piano books are buried in a sealed box of memories, deep in a cupboard,

that 20 years later I still can't open.

And I remember that I never once heard her play.

That we had no piano.

That lessons came for me, too far into the shame years, to instill any skill.

This is a poem about a piano. A piano that arrived today as I fly to Canada.