Echo from the Past

Does an echo love its beginning sound,
Brightest noise in the silence of the night?
What power can make it travel around,
Pushing air in waves over noiseless ground;
Reflecting, refracting, audible light:
Mirrored for ears with auricular sight,
Blinded by stillness dark, voiceless, profound...

Or speak a word, to a raucous abyss
So loud, it creates a silence intense
Enough to cover anything remiss;
Swallowing howls of self-important bliss,
And the constant drumming of common sense.
Does an echo have any real defense,
Or dissipate fast as an angel’s kiss?

Mick McKellar
April 2018

When I speak these days, I feel like an echo from the past, lost in the silence of weary ears.

Mick