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Another beauty.
You've couched this in such a way as to intimate all mothers are a mystery, imo —though others may not agree. It certainly is true in my case.
You've captured so much of her essence, it feels, and in such an adroit way. One doesn't need to know that it refers specifically to your mother. It reaches further and whispers as are we all.
These lines made me smile:
she knew / intricate routes and drove them fast, outracing / yellow lights.
Unspoken speaks to the music that ends the poem. I really love that thought. However, I'm not certain that should be the title.
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