Marīa

By Sharona Welton

“Marīa, blow my love to me,” belts out Frankie Laine in those long ago 1950s.                                

I was a childhood fan of Westerns and the genre of lonely and forlorn lyrics sung powerfully. To me, Frankie Laine was a master of the spirited and virile style of delivery.  “Marīa,” as he sang it, became a clarion call for me to hear the high and low pitches of the wind, prairie or otherwise.

At that time of Western dramas and the wide-open prairies on film, cowboys rounded up the cattle for the drive to the markets. “Git along little dogie” was their mantra keeping the steers grouped and safe from rustlers and other mishaps along the way. Once settled for the night the cowboys sat around their campfires and felt the loneliness of the long drive, missing the girl back at the ranch, and hearing the whistling wind whipping across the mostly flat grassland.

“Ghost Riders in the Sky”, “500 Miles”, and “Tom Dooley” lent themselves to my search for melancholy sounds as I played the Hi-Fi in the family room. Flames danced in the fireplace (no, not at the campfires) as I sank further into the soothing hypnosis of the teen-age spirit.

Soon, in the 60s, “Blowin’ in the Wind” spoke of the power inherent in cannonballs, and in doves, as a counterpoint.  Dylan spoke to the tenor of the era, and I was with him in that time and space. Further, his mood-inducing lyrics made me an enthusiast for life. Vocals of Bob’s whined and wailed of the human condition.  Indeed, “Blowin’ in the Wind” would be a perfect accompaniment as one’s ashes are to be freed.

I came to know and accept loneliness and listened for its plaintively blue and beautiful sound of the natural force of nature. The power of the howling wind initially frightens as the dust bowls and sandstorms throughout time are witness to this apprehension and fear.

We cannot see the Wind, only hear and feel its manifestation. Thus, the ghostliness and supernatural further scares us as we cannot see it.

Emanations over the years, the whisper and wheeze, the whine and wail, swoosh and swirl, whistle and warble, shriek and skirl along with the power and playfulness send the message of this year, 2021.

The third month in our calendar has allowed the whistling wind to find its way into my psyche again. Some complain of its volatility; I rejoice hearing its siren song.

Home to the harbingers of spring, the Ides of March and St. Paddy’s Day celebration firmly in its grip, I celebrate these times in the third month.  A spiritual connection with the Wind, Marīa, grows each spring.

Nights in this year of our Lord 2021, I hear the teasing and taunt to play with the Wind. I place the bedroom window in position to allow the Wind to play with me. Warm under the comforter, I smile as each eddy offers itself to me. I greet my friend.

The wind is powerful and tantalizing in its ability to eventually lull me to dream. Marīa comes to me in the otherwise silence of the night.

And I listen.

Copyright © 2021 by Sharon Welton