Echoes by Martin Breul

Material music hardens, takes form

chanting of a world disassembled

invoked by the remote song of a bird

that once was. Harmony perspiring 

from feathered body matter – knowing 

eyes listen to past life encoded

in petrified shapes. Art

a futile attempt like science

to grasp the past, mesh it

into the present – regardless

eyes to come

will decipher melodies

of winged choirs soaring above

inscribed on rock surface.

Martin Breul is a writer and poet from East Germany who loves coffee, books and paper. He studied Literature in Glasgow and Toronto, and is currently pursuing a MA at McGill University from his desk in Scotland. His poetry has previously appeared in The Wild Word, The Common Breath, Wet Grain, The Honest Ulsterman and others. He also contributed academic work to [X]position and has his first short story coming forth in the Literary Impulse. You can follow him on Twitter @BreulMartin

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res·ur·rec·tion

/ˌrezəˈrekSH(ə)n/

the action or fact of resurrecting or being resurrected

raising from the dead

restoration to life

rising from the dead

return from the dead