by Jane Hillson Aiello (Denver, CO)
Raised between the transom
Of women’s lib and balabusta
No chance for ritual
No push to excel
No college application
Instead, a cross country trip
In Chevy’s version of a Conestoga
Landing in foothills
A place beyond knowing
Mamaloshen faded
Who am I who am I
Echoed in the valley
My mother died before my poetic voice sprouted
Even though it was she who helped plant the seed
I will see her again one day
Beyond the heavens
In a field of fresh mown grass
She’ll be leaning on her Fairlane 500
As blue as the Colorado Sky
A scarf around her reed thin neck
Jackie O sunglasses
Cigarette in her right hand
I will call out to her in the ancient language
Of daughters
I am here mom
Right here
Jane Hillson Aiello is a lifelong intuitive poet. Raised in a loosely conservative Jewish family in the suburbs of New York City, she calls the Front Range of Colorado home for more than forty years. She also writes essays and memoir vignettes. Jane leads poetry workshops for Kavod on the Road and other organizations in the Denver metro. She has four poems featured in the soon to be released anthology Unplugged Voices. 125 Tales of Art and Life from Northern New Mexico, the Four Corners and The West. Jane is a member of Poetry Society of Colorado. Read more of her work on her blog: Poetry, Prose and Prattle
Author’s notes: Hineni – Here I am; Balabusta – a good housewife; Mamaloshen – Mother tongue
The Jewish Writing Project 