Echoes of Charybdis
Blasphemous beast of the abyssal plain
blooms from the deep, a toothsome lily,
petals of folded waves and rising tides
that unfurl in a garden tumbled stone—
Tides and time and sands all wind
to this dark, dire strait and the trap
of those patient, eternal jaws agape
for the fleet ships of foolish heroes.
And at the heart of this maelstrom
is endless gullet of great Charybdis,
a maw that takes life without qualm
or care of the who, the what, or why.
Dream shredder, terror upon the sea,
screams of the drowned carried ‘cross
the oceans round. Echoes of the lost,
the foolhardy, and unuttered sounds.
Tide and sand and time wind down
as a boy comes astride a clockwork,
a dog, otter pawed and brassbound,
that beloved greyhound, good Lore.
And the boy, drawn forth by an oath
to ferry the words of the dying and
the lost to those who would know
the truth of these precious echoes.
The boy who paid with his voice,
his name, who surrendered his all
to spare another, his young sister
from the great Reaper Swan, Ebb.
Echo, he was called for no one
save Ebb, could recall the name
of that boy, who served so true,
faithful to his promise to Death.
Now Echo and his trusted Lore,
calloused toes a hushed mutter
upon the path of the fossil cliff,
aimed for the maw of Charybdis.
Vomited maelstrom, right on time,
it came whirling up from the deep,
the counterclockwise riptide round,
fresh lamentations of young sailors—
And it was the voices of the drowned
Echo had come to reclaim for those
who sat in vigil for these brave souls,
bitter wisdom in the Nightswift’s song.
But to save the Voices of the Drowned,
more than faith and a damn good dog
were needed. An impossible problem,
no one, except Echo dared to resolve.
