Internet radio flows Loreena
McKennitt’s soprano semi-whisper,
transforming to Celtic St. John of the
Cross’s images of dark night’s specter,
haunting strings framing her mystical voice.
Beyond those strings, my mother is singing
her soft, a cappella, eternal choice
of Irish legend she loved while living:
gentle plea to young Danny to return
when summer’s in the meadow. She would hold
my child’s frame close, quiet my crying yearn
to end the toothache, or my coughing cold,
rocking me to cloudlike silence with her
own, then-young, soprano semi-whisper.
Roger Armbrust
May 2, 2007
