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Echoes of Myself
by susan Stallings Dobson

There is a silence permeating my spirit;
A stillness so deafening it reverberates
With echoes that do not stop.
Like a cathederal bell's clang
Ringing its peal eternally;
The silence thrives on itself.
Externally the world continues;
A carousel of sound; 'round and 'round
Explicating the survival of the species;
Surrounding the muteness in my soul
Contained within skin and bone.
Permeation of universal existence
Suspended on the breath
Of a superficial cosmic veneer.
The pellicle of human mass repels it all
And persists inhaling the silence.
Yet, an occasional whisper penetrates
The armour of spiritual flesh . . .
Bouncing from bone to mind
With the rage of a Pavlovian roar.
The silence screams within my brain
Pleading for asylum from itself . . .
With only itself from which to hide.

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