When An Echo Is Your Only Companion

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I call out anxiously;

Hoping that somebody, anybody;

Would hear me and say something;

But all that I get in return;

Is the echo of my own voice;

Followed by dead silence;

A silence too loud for comfort.

 

Those unpleasant moments;

When my voice bouncing back to me;

Being the only companion I have;

Reminds me of how irritated I feel;

When someone tries to make fun of me;

By repeating my every word;

And mimicking my voice;

I didn’t talk to have it said back to me;

The way I said it;

But to be replied;

 

Nothing makes me feel so alone;

Than the sound of my own voice;

Bouncing off the wall back to me;

Makes me wonder;

Am I truly alone;

Or is someone lurking in the shadows;

Watching me squirm with anxiety?

Do I whisper then?

To not expose my location?

Or do I blindly feel the walls;

To find my way;

When with every step forward;

The tunnel seems darker than before;

And a look back doesn’t help either;

And all I have is my voice and the walls;

What do I do?

 

I’ll keep calling out;

And make do with my shrill voice as companion;

Until someone hears me and responds;

I’ll keep moving forward;

Hoping I’d be found soon;

I’ll keep feeling the walls with my fingers;

So I’m assured I’ve something to lean on;

 

I believe my echo will find me someone;

Who’s looking for me as well;

As it will travel faster than my steps take me;

Soon I’ll hear a voice that is not mine;

Calling out to me as well;

Running out to me;

And leading me to the light.

 

© Josephine Amoako 2016