The Echo

i make a sound
around the sides of the mountain
like walls to my being
the sound comes back to me
over and over again
like a conscience barking
a dog fenced
barking without end
i listened
and i wonder if it is the first sound
i made

what we do and say comes back to us
begging
that it would have been better if we have not
done and said them at all

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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