My father tells me what should be my first memory of hearing:
A car scuttles up the gravel hill in front of the home I loved.
I drop my chalk and run to the end of the driveway,
as if I am chasing the exhaust of fumes sputtering out the tail pipe,
wondering what on earth is that strain of air
since I was not given sound from birth.

At my testing, the audiologist put me in a soundproof booth:
The ocean has forgotten to pull its stitches together for the life of it.
I want to scream that I feel like I am drowning
as the waves tormented me into debilitation,
kicking for a gasp of air, just anything to break the current.
I cannot keep myself afloat.

My friend’s voice is the most beautiful I’ve ever heard:
Her laugh makes me want to jump in euphoric joy, like she’s dosed me with ecstasy.
I can see her smile and it speaks all the words I don't need to hear.
When she repeats a story for the third time, I do not mind
that she trusts me with her voice and her whimsical light
since she is the only one patient enough to put up with my aggravating nuisances.

That night at the David Gray concert, my God what a beautiful night:
I am so familiarized with the stretching of violin strings and guitar plucks,
Gray’s hypnotic vocals roaring into my heart with the bass thumping
into my disabled ears, rendered quite useless until I have tasted such delightful surprise
with so many of my favorite noises encasing me into their world,
that I have forgotten my own disability.

It peeves me when I am with others:
The muffling of girls whispering once the lights are out;
my stepfather keeping the TV volume low and does not provide caption while the movie rolls;
how I answer the question with the wrong response and receive confused glares.
I am a lonesome tree in the woods
with no one around to see my inevitable fall as the fire plagues on.

A technical transition last July:
Misery trenched my mind as everything rang louder-
the shuffling of my hair against my ears bothered me very much so;
I heard women talking from three tables over at the pizza place.
First given nothing, now having too much,
I am not appreciative of all the sounds in the frantic tussle of daily life.

A forest begins to chill at four o clock:
The leaves flutter on the terrain in a dance no one knows,
the sun warms me in a song with lyrics I can’t comprehend.
I am relishing what is given to me, that even though I am broken,
I still realize that I would much rather be deaf
than to ever go blind.

Obedience,
ECHOING LOUD,
In the hallway,
Of decisions

It's THUMPING,
Like war drums,
In your canals

But, can you HEAR it?

I am telling you what I feel,
But you don't seem to listen.
You don't hear the words I am saying,
The pain in my voice.

I am yelling at you,
But you don't hear what I am saying,
I scream ,
But you are deaf for my pain.

And I scream,
Try so hard to be heard,
But you don't seem to listen,
Am I not to be heard?

Sometimes, I'm just like
"Is the fan even on?
I feel the vibrations of its movement
In my ears
But I don't feel it".
Does the fan even work?
Does fan even exist?

Photographs can't capture
The majesty of sight
The daisies in the rain
Cloaked in vibrant light

Recordings can't capture
The music of ears
Melody of wonder
All I wish to hear

Words can't always capture
Feelings I possess
Raging storms in me
Leave me as a mess

My gut tells me secrets and
Guides me to answers.
It screams nausea like a
Air raid siren during war time.

My gut speaks to me and
Implores me to listen.
It never chides me when
I ignore its clarion call.

My gut is never wrong and
Sets me timely reminders.
It stores experience like a
Well thumbed user manual.

My gut is instinctive and
It helps me understand others.
Their motives and intentions;
Their weaknesses and strengths.

The revs of car engines
The footsteps of pedestrians
The laughter of children
The bark of guard dogs
The chirps of small birds

Even from in my bedroom I can hear the world I am familiar to
The world I call **home

I hear one note
I close my eyes
I hear one beat
I start to smile
I'm not just hearing
I'm also listening
How could such fimiliar words
have such different meanings
I might be percieving the sound
but I am also giving one's attention
Not only the sense of hearing
but the sense of feeling
it hits my core
chills from all of my toes
to the tip of my nose
to the back of my neck
from a shoulder to another
I let out a sound
Just to realize its over


now I feel nothing