Echoes

Standing on familiar soil
I see the echoes
of a time that used to be,
time when this soil
was all I knew,
time when small-town dirt
beneath my nails,
broke the boundary
of where I started
and the land began

Now I am tall and home
is far away, across an ocean
that laps this sand,
but standing here
in the echo of the past,
the descendants
of my childhood crickets
screech and
my cells stir to
their familiar shrill

I see the echoes in the eyes
of children now standing on this grass,
familiar shades of those gone before,
the ones who carried the genes,
who tilled this soil
the echoes of their sentiments
reflecting, rippling,
water in a gene pool

© Tanya Southey
#52words52weeks
#monthlymusing