"Riding With Maria" by Judy Nilsen

My dear friend of twenty-five years or so, Judy Nilsen is not a professional poet but she has the mind of one. She does not write poetry often so when she shared this one with me a few years back, I felt it was something very special.

For National Poetry Month, here is my friend Judy's moving, bittersweet, elegiacal poem "Riding With Maria."

Riding With Maria
by Judy Nilsen

According to the moderator,
Maria Callas is not in possession
of one of the world's angelic voices,
which are a dime a dozen,
but is, rather,
"a dramatic conveyance of female passion".

The aria is surging now,
moving with unstoppable energy to a climactic close.
The harmonic tension is pulled tight,
the orchestra climbing an uphill crescendo,
the violins on their tiptoes reaching for the heavens.
Finally it happens:
Callas hits the most amazing high E flat,
pulling the cork right out of my soul.

So I take a deep breath
and with full-throated abandon
join her on an Italian word I don't understand
but can feel in every bone of my body,
resonating with the force of life.

While Maria and I hold our high note together
in breath-defying exultation,
I look up at the sky,
clear blue and cloudless.
A dark black hawk is soaring with us,
as graceful and buoyant in its own flight
as Callas on her soaring E flat.

At this very moment,
when Callas and I and the hawk
share a few precious beats
in the rhythm of the Universe,
I let go of the steering wheel.

At 75 miles an hour,
I throw both arms open wide to all of life:

to the hot crisp hillsides
    dotted with masses of dark green trees
to the hawk dipping its wings
    in air pungent with the smell of summer
to my sore hands steering the way
    as my hair blows around my face
to my father's painful steps
    and the twinkle still in his eyes
to my mother's spotted arm reaching for pills
    as loganberry pie bakes in the oven

to love
to joy
to sorrow
to soft pink roses gracing the dining room table
to crisp brown leaves on the ground outside
to things growing
to things dying

Here in the opera,
here in life,
I know the final cadence is upon us.

Taking hold of the wheel again in tears,
I descend with Maria to the last note of our song,
give up my breath as she gives up hers,
continue driving my car toward home
through a moment of pure and total beauty,
wanting so much to hold onto everything.

© Judy Nilsen 2001