Arrorró

A short poem for my Mother, whose absence remains painful. This poem was born of my son asking about her this afternoon and a conversation we had about songs she used to sing to me. He would have loved her just as much as she would have loved him.

 
Arrorró

In the dreams that bless my nights

You hold my son tight,

Singing Argentine lullabies

Right into the night.

You wrap his tiny hands up

Within your very own,

Singing, “Arrorró, mi niño,

Arrorró. Arrorró”