Echoes Of The Past Poem by Jim Yerman

I hear them often now…sometimes they're deafening…I never know how long they'll last…sometimes they come in whispers…these echoes of the past.

I hear them in the woods…voices from long ago…from people I cannot see
often in the quiet of my solitude is when these echoes speak to me.

I sometimes hear them in the early morning…usually at first light…
but most of the echoes…the loudest ones…come to me at night.

Most times the echoes are from family members who seek me out when I'm alone…
but lately I've been hearing echoes of people I've never known.

I hear echoes of Native Americans…their young and old ones who were slain…
ululations of their suffering…echoes of their pain.

I hear echoes of slaves being torn apart from their family
Echoes of their grief…their screams…echoes of their agony.

I hear echoes of women, Japanese Americans, LGBTQIA+…echoes oftentimes repeated…echoes of anyone no longer here who has been abused, oppressed…mistreated.

Echoes of disappointment, misery, frustration…echoes that cause my heart and soul to ache…Echoes with one message…please…please learn from your mistakes.

Echoes of babies, children, teenagers, young and old…women and men…
Echoes pleading don't forget us…and never let this happen again.

And I wonder why am I hearing these echoes from people I don't know and cannot see? Why of all the people in the world have these echoes chosen me?

And then I think perhaps these voices are always echoing…that I've always been close or near them…and for whatever reason it is only recently I have chosen to hear them.

Which means we all have the ability…knowing on the wind these voices are forever cast…to take the time…to stop and to listen to these echoes of the past.

It is up to us…to listen to the echoes…of people we did not know and cannot see
to make sure their echoes do not disappear into the forgotten shadows of history.

To understand what the echoes are telling us…
to be more accepting…more generous…more kind
to change the course of history by the echoes we leave behind.


And though we cannot change the past…
knowing the wounds of the dead can never be erased or cured…
perhaps they'll rest a little easier….knowing their echoes have been heard.