Hello! We echo as smart as a whip.
Echo, our mirror tone of voices,
Million years much older than us,
Years in total stasis like Brine shrimp eggs
Echo, a cryptobiosis our hidden voices
Never wanting to hear us talk,
Whether railway loud or graveyard silent, he never mind;
Like deuce and tennis, here and there, he tows our voices
Mountains high or valleys low, even dirty gutters and earth,
Coming back, he fuss through
Like a tone of air bubbling to the surface water
Exploding our voices like mine to an Army’s death
Sending messages to families and friends
All around us from east to west
Wonder if he needs some rest.
By Onyeche Vincent onyeka