Wednesday, 13 February 2019

Echoes by Cath Davies

She spoke in her own voice.

For a minute, I swore
I could hear her mother talking.
Her grandmother.

Her great grandmother.
All the way back, all speaking
in her own voice.

Always, I can hear love, love.
For the telling of stories.
But for one, roaring female sound.

A scream from history.
A deafening echo
of all the women unreported.

It was then she sang.
For if they will not listen to your words,
then give them pitch.

She did and I was amazed.
I last heard her,
leading a revolution in song,

the chorus of her ancestors,
echoing, echoing.

---

Cath Davies is 44 and works in social care in North Wales. Recently completing a degree in creative writing, she is a member of Colwyn Bay Writers' Circle and performs her poetry at events locally. She also writes prose, and has self-published 'Problem Box', a book of short stories, and 2 books of poetry, 'Love Across A Wire' and 'Juice' (with Gilda Clark), all available on Amazon.

2 comments:

Just a small sinkhole by John Porter

in an unmapped village  they worked round it made no calls, no fuss, inch by inch it crept till cows tumbled mid chew people just ...