Poetry Piazza: The Echo of Absence

The poetic part of my brain-soul often gets inhibited by the medications I take to keep me mentally aloft. Every now and again enough pressure builds that words break through and when that happens I get really excited. So here is something that bubbled to the surface. I hope you enjoy.

lightning strike

Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

The desert is a place of echoes.

Not enough life,

no soft spaces

to dampen and hold

what gets whispered

in the dark.

Dry, brittle ground

sends sound on its way

until its strength is spent.

Each breath rushes off

with nothing to impede

progress from ear to ear

to ear.

Even when the rain comes

it’s the thunder

that arrives first.

Tumbling over valley floors

that reverberate back

the sentiment that

all creatures in

parched places call

to the clouds.

I miss you.

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