Echo's Love be not Forgotten

It is so hard to pinpoint the muse, and just how much she can influence a life. A few years ago I had a friend named Chelsea who was a young co-worker and artist. She, at that point, had already accomplished more with her art than I have yet with my writing, but I was attracted to the style of her work. Around that same time, my mythological studies were surrounded by the ever present Greeks, and as much as I deplore their omnipresence, they are also the seed to many writings and deeds and history that cannot be ignored. I came across, not for the first time, nor for the last, the tale of Echo and Narcissus. As I was reading, I had the vision of an idea; a portrait of Echo in Chelsea's style. I was really excited by the idea. I was even more excited to commission the piece. I broached the topic, and she was intrigued, but she did not know the myth. I explained it, wrote down the name and such so she could research it, and we went our separate ways. I decided to write a poem containing the myth, to give to her to assist her in the commission. I didn't have any specific ideas for the piece; I just knew I wanted her to paint it, but I wanted to make sure she knew the myth. Below is "Echo's Love be not Forgotten," which was written for that purpose. I love the painting and have it to this day.

But that was not the only thing grown out of that commission and composition. I was so taken with the idea, and I was so enchanted, indeed I still am, with mythology, that it birthed in me a new series of poems. Tentatively called "Women in Myth," the series, which is still underway, broached Greek, Roman, Celtic and Norse mythology, along with folktales from around the world. The tales range from a single page in the shortest, to an in-progress piece that is over 40 pages long. All because I commissioned a single piece from a fellow artist. Mighty is the muse, and I love her, even if I can only hear her echoes.


Echo's Love be not Forgotten

Mine love, dost thou remember me?
Remember me?

Dost thou remember olden woods
Where summer used to find us twined,
Where springs sang warmly unto we?
Unto we...

Remember I how came to thee,
How rivers splashed so merrily
And what those glens inspired in me.
In me...


Thou spied on me whilst I wandered,
And as I the oaken wood stepped
Thou, merry, quite surrounded me.
Surrounded me...

Thy dryads took me in their arms
And naiads took me by the feet
And in thy mirth thou tempted me.
Tempted me...

Then further in you took me, nymphs,
Beneath your sacred wooden bows
To feast beneath thine merry dells.
Merry dells...

And you fair nymph captured me.
Mine honest heart for you did sing
Though was convinced it twas a dream
A dream...

And merrily I took to thee,
As flowers work upon the bee;
Then you confided love for me.
Love for me...

So the Greecian summers found us,
Twined as Baucis and Philemon;
I felt that I belonged with thee.
With thee...

Then great Zeus from Olympus came
To merry with the nymphs all be
And went you when he beckoned thee
Beckoned thee...

And soon Hera came thereafter
To catch the promiscuous Zeus
With the dryads thus enraptured,
Enraptured...

Then you, fair nymph, fair Hera distracted
That the mightiest Zeus could flee;
Yet Hera quick suspected thee.
Suspected thee...

She took away thine cheerful song,
That never more thine thoughts be heard,
Your only voice 'nothers last words.
Last words...

Yet still I love'd mine Echo
And still you bore your love to me;
Then Narcissus came unto thee.
Came unto thee...

So peerless he in look and smile,
And so light his gay filled step,
You instantly forgot of me.
Forgot of me...

So called on him as called to thee
With all thy fervor and delight,
And he, unworthy; shunnéd thee.
Shunnéd thee...

He shunnéd thee as he had all
Who sought such beauty as a lover;
He would never love another.
Love another...

Yet loved he so desperately,
That when he had rejected thee
Loved him nonetheless completely.
Completely...

Then withered you, mine love, away.
Hid from the sun, the moon, and stars
Til but your voice came unto we...
Came unto we...

And though you had forgotten me
I always have remembered thee
And cried that you unhappy be.
Unhappy be...

Then Nemesis, I prayed to thee,
That he who so had stricken thee
Could a true love finally see.
Finally see...

Well did hope he'd call upon thee,
That you at last could happy be;
But Nemesis thought differently...
Thought differently...

Loved himself, and wasted as thee
Til flowers stood where face once be,
Yet you're still unhappy; like me.
Like me...

So dost thou yet remember me
Who loves thee still and constantly
And always will remember thee?
Remember thee...

Pine you now never more for he
Who withered so as you for he
And come instead, love, come to me...
Come to me...

Yet all I'll ever have of thee
Is painéd, joyful memory
And times that passed so splendidly.
So splendidly...

And now you come not forth for me.
Forever in the shadows be;
For thou carest for none but he.
But he...

Have seen what pinéd love did cost;
Have seen as two such lovers lost
To love that was not meant to be.
Meant to be...

I'll love mine Echo's memory;
Memory that love still echoes me,
But I'll pine not, for gone art thee.
Art thee...

There's more to life than love denied,
And more to love than hollow sighs
Or flowers to mark those who've died.
Who've died...

So though you have forgotten me
And wasted away for such as he,
I'll not in death so empty be;
I'll live a better love; for thee.