A Decade Later

The Echo

I turned off the radio,
and stopped the running bath,
To hear it sing.

'What do you sing,
my blue songbird?"
I asked it,
and it answered
in a scolding chirp,
"Why do you assume
I always sing?
Why are you humans
so judgemental?
Do you not think,
a bird could talk?"

I got a little scared,
like a child under
a mother's scolding
thumb.
"It makes easy, bird,
to believe
some things
are uniform,
A bird sings,
an ant is always
diligent,
the sun always bright,
the peacock vain,
and the snake evil."

The bird sighed,
"Haven't I talked to
you before, when you
were a child?
Have you forgotten
how we live,
now you think
and see me
only with
human eyes,
superficial
and self centered.
Listen again,
I'm not singing,
I'm discussing
autumn
and the cold,
and my young,
and my food,
and the wound
on my wing."

I listened again,
and I heard the
stories
that I knew
years ago.
I opened
my eyes
and saw
the world
and myself,
looking
at the world
in the reflection
of my mirror.

So, I turned
around,
and the world
was still
the same,
only without
me in the centre
of a small frame.