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Out in the open,
In a grand ole place,
I stand on the ledge,
With nature face to face.

Is that me I hear?
Crossing overhead?
Strangely familiar,
Words I’ve just said.

It’s only an echo,
Yet it validates my lines,
Hearing my voice,
Fainting over time.

I repeat it again,
It bounces off walls,
Traveling through air,
Down the mountain it falls.

This time I yell,
With my chin lifted high,
Expecting to hear,
A return from the sky.

Quiet, no answer.
The silence lingers on.
Where are my words?
They must carry on.

I pause for a moment,
As I stand in great wonder,
My words knock me over,
Like a clap of loud thunder.

I listen for the echo,
When life becomes blurred,
A sound like no other,
A voice to be heard.

By Aimi Medina 11-9-14


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