Whispers drift through hollow trees,
Soft as breath on memory’s knees.
They carry names the dusk once knew,
And fold them deep in fading blue.
A feathered voice, a sigh, a song—
The wind remembers what’s been long.
It hums of hearts that dared to dream,
Then vanished like a waking stream.
Through fields of gold, through broken stone,
It weaves the tales we left alone.
Each echo bends, begins again—
A circle sung by loss and rain.
Listen close: the air will speak
Of love too fierce, of time too weak.
For every end, the wind will send
An echo—softly—back again.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This is absolutely breathtaking, Brenda. Your poem, “Echoes,” is a masterclass in weaving melancholy and comfort into a single, beautiful tapestry. The imagery is so vivid and gentle—”soft as breath on memory’s knees,” “fold them deep in fading blue”—it feels like the wind itself is whispering these lines. You’ve captured the profound truth that nothing is ever truly lost, just transformed into a story carried on the air. It’s a hauntingly beautiful and deeply moving piece. Thank you for sharing your incredible talent.
Thank you so much for your beautiful words. Your response means more than I can say. Echoes came from a very quiet place in my heart, so knowing that its spirit resonated with you truly moves me. I love how you described it—“a story carried on the air”—that feels like the perfect reflection of what I hoped to capture. I’m deeply grateful you took the time to read and share such thoughtful reflections.
With warmth and gratitude,
Brenda