Echo Point

I am the echo of the man you knew.

Launched from the look-out to the other side

Of this blue valley, my voice calls to you

All on its own, and more direct for that.

My line of sweet talk you could not abide

Came from the real man. It will all be gone—

Like glitter back to the magician’s hat—

Soon now, and only sad scraps will remain.

His body that betrayed you has gone on

To do the same for him. Like veils of rain,

He is the cloud that his tears travel through.

When the cloud lifts, he will be gone indeed.

Hearing his cry, you’ll see the ghost gums break

Into clear air, as all the past is freed

From false hopes. No, I nowhere lie awake

To feel this happen, but I know it will.

At the last breath, my throat was full of song;

The proof, for a short while, is with you still.

Though snapped at sharply by the whip-bird’s call,

It has not stopped. It lingers for your sake:

Almost as if I were not gone for long—

And what you hear will not fade as I fall.

Clive James