But First Dear Reader, A Note To You:
How are all of you doing? I’ve had a wildly busy few days, but I still wanted to get this week’s newsletter out, so here it is!
This week’s poem is about mountains. And echoes.
So, imagine you’re standing on a mountaintop. The cold sun and air. You cup your hands around your mouth to shout something, anything out into the chasm below. Think of how it makes you feel small and large at once. Let’s begin.
mountain
anything is possible
here / on the brim of the world
where continents collided
and the ground folded up / to meet the sky
so when my small voice / dives
into the sloping green valley / sun-dipped
i hear / the world call back to me / in a voice
that belongs to the mountain and I / both.
here / on the brim of the world
where continents collided
and the ground folded up / to meet the sky
If you’ve ever heard a mountain or a cave echo something back to you, you probably understand why the word has many uses in the English language. Think: echoes of the past / an idea that echoed through the ages / a faint echo of a feeling. The echo is haunting. It lingers. It repeats itself. Just like other things in life.
While this poem is about literal echoes, I wanted to have an implied metaphor in here somewhere. About calling, reaching out into the world. And how what gets echoed back to you is the self, but also something bigger.
And if you’re wondering why I made the odd choice of punctuating this poem with slashes, here’s why: I imagined this poem as being brief but also packed with succinct images. To achieve this brevity, I wanted the poem to read like one long sentence.
The slashes aim to cue pauses, without breaking up the flow of the sentence like a comma or full stop would. I hope this punctuation-choice added to the poem!
Anyway, what have all of you been reading this week? Talk to me in the comments!
Before You Go…
If you’ve read till here, then thank you! And if you liked this piece, considering subscribing, sharing, dropping a comment or sending this newsletter to a friend who needs more poetry in their life. You can also consider pledging a paid subscription to support my work. It would mean the world!
And as always, here’s what I’ve been loving on Substack this week:
I’ll be back with a new poem next week. Until then, take care.
Love,
Anagha
“Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains?”
- Jane Austen
Mountain Top Inquisition
Hello!
Who are you?
Where are you?
Who am I ?
Are you hiding?
From what?
I don't understand.
I only hear echos.
(Pause)
Ok.
Bye.
Among my favorite poems are those that end with a line, or a few words, or one word, or even a visual that surprises, awes, teaches, or reminds—or all four at once. Many, many poems, of course, do this. But still, your poem here delights. A reminder of the fact that whenever we have the courage to add our voice to the world, because we are courageously vulnerable, we want the world to echo back to us a commingling of voices that affirm: “Yes, we hear you. And we are glad you are here. Welcome back to yourself.” Sadly, for many, the echo can be less than benevolent. May those brave souls persist and continue to share their voices—those who care to listen…will hear. Thank you Anagha!