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, to 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, balloons, celebration expectations
A beast at night beckoning to be let in, or out
Or simply for the sake of it
The screaming of tattered lovers finally falling 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
The 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 clinking against packed stony earth
The musical memories of this world we share
And what we chose to make with them
-a.r.
Photograph by Emir Ozashin
Reposted for my little echo on her 10th birthday…may your own echoes carry advocacy, humanity, ferocity, creativity, and compassion.
sometimesihatemycat 
Magical
Thank you. A little magic is always a great thing.
And you have it
You are too sweet. I’m just a normal, imperfect, messy human. Having magic sure does sound lovely though, maybe I’ll let myself believe it for an evening, A willful, wonderful illusion. Thank you, kind Sir.
Smiles