She showed me the trailer to American son on Netflix, and in no time at all, I asked if we couldn’t watch it. So we did. Had us frustrated, irritated, annoyed, upset and shocked.
Then a friend in The Creative’s Workshop discovered Stabat Mater, the piece Jens Bragdell Eriksson, my choirmaster, wrote in 2016 for my choir. Listening she wrote, having me put the album on myself, so I can listen knowing she’s doing the same, on the other side of the world. Together, at a time like this. Important. Vital. Rejuvenating.
At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.
And George Floyd calling out for his mama, before dying.
(Click this link. Read it. Promise me, you’ll read it. Then come back here.)
The synchronicity of it hitting me hard.
Trying to make sense of experiences I cannot possibly experience, asking when I don’t, taking in the differences in what it is to be human, in someone else’s body.
There’s so much to learn, and I intend to continue learning.
Listening. Reading. Watching. Conversing. Asking. Writing.
2 thoughts on “calling out for mama”
I listened and get sooo touched… so touched… Sometimes I wonder about the world we live in.
It really makes you wonder. HOW is it possible? How can someone be so mean? There’s really something wrong … And my teras start falling.
And also: the beauty o f being a mom!