On being Deaf

On Being Deaf

I am loved and warm and fed,
I am held in her loving arms,
Her lips move yet there is no sound, her eyes are sad.
And I don’t understand yet
But she can hear and I can’t.

They look at me with puzzled faces,
Mummy why doesn’t he speak when I talk to him?
They point with little fingers.
They don’t understand yet.
But they can hear and I can’t.

The teacher tries to do it right.
She faces me and then forgets,
And turns her face towards the board or walks around the room,
Explains the lesson – I am lost.
They understand,
Yet they can hear and I can’t.

The playground – easy you may think, but
In little groups around they stand,
Whispering, laughing, little secrets,
Talking about me, maybe yes, maybe no.
I don’t understand – nor do they
The anger that I feel inside, the sadness that I have to hide.
Because they can hear and I can’t.

Lectures, classes, talk, talk, talk.
No-one knows it’s hard to ask,
To want to be the same and can’t,
To always be the odd one out.
The feeling sad, the feeling mad,
But you will never understand.
Because you can hear and I can’t.

Time passes by – and I have grown.
An adult now – with friends and yet alone.
The pub, the disco, movies, shows, the laughter, fun, the chat, the noise.
But still you all don’t really understand the silence that inside my head.
Because you can hear and I can’t.

And does anyone care? Because you all hear and I can’t.

On being Deaf

Horatio Lawson

North Berwick, United Kingdom

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