Not Impaired
Deaf people experience deafness not
as an absence, but as a presence.
~ Andrew Solomon in Far From the Tree
He cannot hear
the music, a high
note pitch-piped
to set off the boys'
choir on Sunday.
He misses bass
tones, too, cannot
ever find the place
where sound might
rest for a whole
measure, waiting
for him to catch up.
He can never sit in
the back row only,
pretending he gets
every word. Reading
lips takes an effort
when so many are
in a hurry, refusing
to pay attention to
signs. All the noise
breaks concentration.
Look, he'd say if
they'd turn to face
him: That sweet
nothing in my ear
is this, my chance
to listen to what is
not you, not I.
© 2014 Maureen E. Doallas
________________________
This poem was inspired by Ann Conway's post "Interior Music" at Good Letters blog (Image Journal).
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
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4 comments:
it's good to get another perspective on hearing.
Wonderful capture of what it is to lose the sense of hearing. It's happening to me a little more every day. The ringing inside my ears is making all other sounds incomprehensible. I love the tenderness in this poem, the spotlight on what care is needed. Well said, Maureen.
nice perspective...we used to have a man that was blind that came to tune our piano...he was a wizz...i learned so much from him...he was so patient with a young boy...teaching me to see as he saw....
Maureen, I love your gorgeous twist of attention to that absence, the nothing, the not you, not I — the ability to "hear" it between the somethings. Wow, what a thought.
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