That Echo


That Echo

That echo…

That heaven allows us

That hides in the shadows

That echo…

That rouses us from our sleep

That ache of empty years

That echo…

That spirals through our minds

That speaks to our souls

That echo…

That we thought we had forgotten

That is the beginning

That echo…

That magic that it weaves

That changes us quietly within

That echo…

That brush of memories

That strives to be revealed

That echo…

© Ann Bagnall 2013 (revised 2019).

 

“She long’d her hidden passion to reveal,

And tell her pains, but had not words to tell:

She can’t begin, but waits for the rebound,

To catch his voice, and to return the sound…”

Ovid

(“Narcissus and Echo” Book III of Metamorphoses)

Poussin “Echo and Narcissus” 1625-1630

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