Echoes
All of life is carried in an echo
With my ear pressed against the border
I can hear the whole of it
A morse tap in a metal tub being filled
Our playful yelps across a canyon, at no one
The return of whale whistles in the sea
Just the right spot in a naked room
Grieving mothers, fathers, on battlefield streets
That first step in an abandoned stairwell
Laughter bounding back across time
The popping of corks, ballons, celebration expectations
A beast at night beckoning to be let in, or out
Or simply for the sake of it
Screaming of tattered lovers finally breaking apart
The clinking of chains across oceans
“Mommy” from the mouths of babes in need
Chirping from a ready pot of tea, or coffee
Whispers of words we shared louder than we thought
Plumbing, garbage trucks, busses, responders
Clanking, groaning, squealing, siren songs
Rescues of a modern age from chaos
Speeches from leaders and villains, or both
Roaring of crowds in response and revolt
Clicking of keys and keyboards and screens
The ticking of time wound tight but slowing
An empty shovel against stone packed earth
Musical memories of a world we share
And what we chose to make with them
— April Resnick
Photograph by Emir Ozashin
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