“To go fast,” they say, “Go alone.”

“To go far, go together.”

I am in no hurry; I travel in good company.

My mother beside me and her mother, too.

I journey with a host, a crowd

An unbroken line of women, of mothers

stretching back and back and on

each one, daughter to her mother.

Their voices persitant,

speaking their echoes in my DNA,

in my eyes and the shape of my hand,

In my RNA,  whispering the curve of my cheek

in my mitochondria, and deeper.

They live on, moving forward

through time.

We travel together.

We are in no hurry; we plan to go far.



2 thoughts on “Echoes

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