a boy (was he)
Probably there is nothing in human nature more resonant with charges than the flow of energy between two biologically alike bodies, one of which has lain in amniotic bliss inside the other, one of which has labored to give birth to the other. The materials are here for the deepest mutuality and the most painful estrangement.
—Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution
By a coincidence of the calendar, we marked Father’s Day a few weeks after Enzo died, and now, a few weeks before the first anniversary of his death, we celebrate Mother’s Day. Yesterday, a musical piece, “amore,” by Ryuichi Sakamoto — whose music Enzo loved and performed — inspired some thoughts on what Enzo and his mother shared during his lifetime. —CA
a boy (was he) with opening eyes beheld you before any other with a glance (at his world) discovering life and seeing that it was all you step by step, forward and back “he’s like me” (you said) “he is you” (i said) in time, he grew (for grow we must) tiny to small and bigger to big with time, he knew (for know, we must) nothing to something and some things to more step by step, forward and back “he hears me” (you said) “she tells me” (he said) morning by morning your hand touching his he lived (for such love is life) reasons in seasons went inside (and out) and mostly he did, though sometimes he didn’t step by step, forward and back “he leaves me” (you said) “she finds me” (he said) and then one day so like any other he was (and then suddenly wasn’t) words and songs hellos and goodbyes silenced (and taken forever) step by step, forward and back “i miss him” (you said) “he’s with you” (i said) now what remains (in all that remains) is the meaning of him in the meaning of you and now what endures (of all that endures) is you being for him and he being of you step by step, forward and back “he knew me” (you say) “she loves me” (he'd say) [a boy (was he)] —C. Alvarenga (Mother’s Day, 2023)