The title gives an instruction, but the poem admits right away how hard it is to follow: "hard to hear ourselves." The speaker seems to feel that listening inward is awkward, even a little overwhelming. Instead of a quiet meditation, we get an image of sitting "inside the music of us," as if our own selves were a piece of music we're stuck within rather than standing apart from.
Then the poem turns playful and strange. We are "half echo," which suggests we repeat what we've heard from others, and "half mango," something ripe, sweet, and physical. Those two halves feel very different, and the mismatch is part of the charm. The last lines, "to go / off," split a phrase that can mean a bomb exploding, fruit spoiling, or a sudden burst of sound. Judging by the imagery, the mood is light but slightly uneasy: curious, humorous, and aware that real self-listening might be messy or even a little dangerous.