May 6: Reverberate - (Of a loud noise) be repeated several times as an echo

This view reminds me of a Norwegian fjord

though I’ve never seen one in my life.

The magnificent rocks

that form cliffs surround me in all directions.

The wind is still, absent.

The silence does not comfort me,

I am searching for the lowest, slightest noise.

I realize that I am the only one

capable of making any noise.

I let the power of my vocal cords escape my mouth.

Was it a scream?

Was it a call?

I could not tell.

I listened for the echo

Once,

Twice,

Thrice,

Gone.

I do the same thing again,

This time, the power comes from my stomach,

The echo stays the same.

Once,

Twice,

Thrice.

I am exhausted now.

The cliffs and rocks have forgotten already.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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