Mother (from Longing for Home) – Carol Barnett

Composer: Carol Barnett

Text by: Bea Exner Liu (1907-1997)

Instrumentation mezzo-soprano, piano

Duration: approx.  3'45"

Date Written:  2018

Composer’s note: Longing for Home is a song cycle written to celebrate Source Song Festival’s fifth season. The texts all reference homecoming in various ways – the enduring wish to return to a place remembered with love and longing, as well as the uncertainty, the impossibility of doing so.

“Mother” –The music mirrors the unsettled sadness of a daughter’s too-long-delayed visit home, now bereft of its center of gravity. Memories of beloved rituals, of a sympathetic ear, are brought to life once more by the nearness of familiar objects, and finally, the almost tangible sound of her mother’s voice: “You’re a big girl now. You can work it out.” Bea Exner Liu was born and raised in Northfield, Minnesota, and graduated from Carleton College. She moved to China in 1935 to teach English,  and while there, married a Chinese classmate from Carleton and witnessed the Japanese invasion of China during the years 1935 to 1945. 

The full cycle can be found here: https://opusimprints.com/products/longing-for-home-carol-barnett

text

MOTHER

I wish that I could talk with her again.
That’s what I thought of when I thought of home,
Always supposing I had a home to come to.
If she were here, we’d warm the Chinese pot
To brew a jasmine-scented elixir,
And I would tell her how my life has been—
All the parts that don’t make sense to me,
And she would let me talk until the parts
Fitted together.

That will never be.
She couldn’t wait for me to come to her—
Ten years away. I couldn’t wish for her
To wait, all blind and helpless as she was.
So now I have come home to emptiness:
No silly welcome-rhyme, no happy tears,
No eager questioning. No way to get
An answer to my questions. Silence fills 
The rooms that once were vibrant with her song,
And all the things I wanted to talk out
With her are locked forever in my heart.

I wander through the rooms where she is not.
Alone I sit on the hassock by her chair,
And there, at last, I seem to hear her voice:
“You’re a big girl now. You can work things out.”

Bea Exner Liu (1907-1997)