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Echo
ECHO
so short and fleetingly godlike
resounding becomes abruptly
divine
addressing - the timid salute
of hopeful beings -
becomes booming expectation
palms fan in amazement
hands become eyes
eyes become hands
Babylonian sentences
- written roughly and grey
against the blue sheets of skies,
so heavenly and holy -
translate one another
coarseness rephrases sighs
tackles ... tempers ... strips
until longing becomes lovely vistas
the cave keeps its repetition ready
call-word seeks its worded reward
in the slipstream of its breath
caller rehears himself
awaiting his echo
before the ear has heard
the Silence, it has been sung already
yes, above the treacherous heart
songs may soar
without resistance
through awaiting skies
myra
31 January 2003
My!! Myra, this is profound. You took me to the skies; you carried me to the mountains!! I heard the initial-song, and then I heard the echoes!!
Do we not hear what WE shout, and then re-hear what God says to us in the return!!?? Have you heard the echo that returns to us from across the desert, or back from upon the sea?? I feel that you HAVE......sometime.
This SO lovely: :"....hands become eyes, eyes become hands; Babylonian sentences....blue sheets of skies .... translate one another (SO glad you didn't say "...each other".
Your cycling, through your means of transporting the reader by your juxtaposition of this beautiful imagery: "coarse ...sigh ...vistas ...cave ...slipstream ...breath ..." is magnificent, like a magic-carpet-ride!!
And the finality, indicating to me that what I believe about the Source of all Poetry, is a Place where It All has existed forever, and we are sometime allowed to visit, or to dip a finger-tip into the Muses Oceans.
I do not have ANY reason why I've not visited you before. It has been MY loss. Sincerely. Teddy Rex
"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !