Echo speaks

Echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the last word.

There is a river … reflecting a
rift, bereft, reduced
to remembrance
regarded from afar,
history and humidity, reflections
and memories all under water,
shadowy expressions drifting
with the travels of the sun;
I wonder,
why is my reflection broken?

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write about the myth of Narcissus. I chose the character I find most interesting, the woman who was not allowed to speak for herself. As a response to Bart Barker’s challenge, Echo speaks only in the form of lines from several of my poems.

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