Past – present – future.
The clock chimes today and I hear it in Dublin in 1999,
As it sounds in a dozen other places.
I hear it on the Broad Walk in Regent’s Park,
Days before New Year’s, and in early December.
Looking onto Dublin Bay, it sounds over the wind
As I run on the sands, and as I stand to face a furious winter storm.
“Am I alive in all these places, at all these times, at once?”
I asked myself, on the day I finished “Mrs Dalloway’.
“Traces suspended, like fog in trees.
Echoes and marks on places and people?”
Maybe we do survive death, and linger on, awhile.
Until our echoes dissolve in the air.