Day 267: Listen as His Screams Echo through the Water

The last poem I wrote is a mythology poem based on Echo and Narcissus.  Wikipedia tells the whole story.  My assignment required me to retell it in some way, so I added a new ending.

Listen as His Screams Echo through the Water

I sit at my lookout post,

The granite chilling my calf

as my legs dangle

over the side of the cliff. I hear

a magpie, his melodies reverberating

off the branches of the cypress. The power

of his voice encourages him to sing

louder. I touch my throat,

open my mouth as wide as I can,

press my tongue against my teeth, but only hear 

silence.

So many thoughts try to push

themselves out. Not even they can

keep me company.

I claw at my hair in frustration and

see a man- an actual human- walk

through the clearing. I tiptoe

through the juniper trees to get

a closer look. He stands poised

over a stag’s tracks.  Eyes

like the Mediterranean, black curly hair,

broad, rounded shoulders,

with a leather quiver draping across.

I shift closer and a twig snaps

between my toes.

Who’s there?

His rich baritone makes the magpie flee

in shame. I crouch

behind a bush. If I don’t

speak up now, I’ll lose my chance.

Who’s there? my voice cracks.

I had forgotten how it sounded.

He turns around, and

I can see his face through the leaves.

Why do you run from me?

Why do you run from me? I respond.

Looking behind trees, he stops

three feet away. Thick fingers scratch his chin.

Let’s meet together!

My eyes widen and

I slowly stand. Let’s meet.

Oh no, don’t run away! 

My love, come back!

He hasn’t moved in three weeks.

Every day and every night he sits

next to the stream.

Why can’t his voice caress me

the way it does his reflection?

How dare he abandon me?

Don’t I know enough about isolation?

You look beautiful today.

You’re not talking to me.

Your hair rests perfectly around your face.

Why should you get to talk and I don’t?

I wouldn’t change a thing about you.

His babbling scratches my eardrum.

The profile of a god.

My face appears above his

in the murky reflection, yet

his eyes don’t waver.

My fingers run through

his curls and trickle towards his neck,

the voice’s throne room.

Do you know how much I love you?

I shove his head deep

under the water. His warbled pleas fall

on mute ears.