She was my own mother’s voice

when mom was reaching

as deep inside as she could

for the sound of a wing on

a tender prayer, but sometimes

she just couldn’t make it.

We would roll that album

right out its sleeve and

give it another revolution

and then i’d say, “I hear it now

mama, you were right.”

In my childhood, it was

demanded of me to learn

respect for the tell tale signs

of love as my childhood spun

in every direction known, and

the whole way, came that voice...

Calm, soothing, justifying.

and when I heard that voice

I hung my head sheepishly,

cause even at 7 years old,

I knew no voice that could

shake the foundation more

so than this one.

No microphone stood a chance,

and no man for that matter.

I grew up to one day become

a man myself and my mother sent

Aretha along to look after me.

Jeremy Szuder (he/him) lives in a tiny apartment with his wife, two children and two cats. He works in the evenings in a very busy restaurant, standing behind a stove, a grill, fryers and heating lamps, happily listening to hours of hand selected music and conjuring ideas for new art and poetry in his head. When his working day ends and he enters his home in the wee hours, he likes to sit down with a glass of wine and record all the various words and images that bear fruit within his mind. Jeremy Szuder only sets the cage doors free when the work begins to pile up too high. In this life, Szuder makes no illusions of being a professional artist in any way, shape, or form.
https://jeremyszuder.wordpress.com/