Silence

 I am hearing impaired and Vicki knows that and helps me when she sees that I'm having trouble understanding something. I wrote the following poem which was published a few years ago in the San Diego Poetry Annual and it was just republished in the Silent Sparks anthology Beautiful Poetry. It was cathartic to write as I wanted readers to know what the hearing impaired go through daily. The poem follows:

SILENCE

Copyright Terry Macrae

We can't abide silence, it seems.

We fill it, like shoveling soil into a gaping grave,

with meaningless conversation,

as if afraid of becoming lost in it.

While out driving, a crooning Dino

clashes with the drone of the tires

on the freeway.

Sirens pierce the night air

like ice picks through eardrums,

a dog's bark, a neighbor's party—

all intruders breaking in to keep us awake.

Noise, noise, everywhere.

Any time, any place, no escape.

Pollution they call it.

Ah, but I'm an exception, you see,

being almost deaf and all.

Silence isolates, robbing me

of that which I crave:

Social intercourse, the subtleties of speech.

Sounds taken for granted by most,

no longer exist for me—

the frenzied flapping of hummingbirds' wings,

raindrops ricocheting off rooftops.

My impairment has only one advantage:

Amidst the din, I can sleep at night.

But just once,

I'd love to hear the joyful sound

of my cat's purr.

I would like to end this post by telling you that I received a cochlear implant four years ago. The night of my activation, when my implant sound processor was turned on, I heard my cat purr for the first time. Cochlear implants are some of the most amazing medical devices ever invented. I can now hear much better than with regular hearing aids; I can even have telephone conversations now. Music sounds almost like it did before my hearing deteriorated. A new hearing world has opened up to me. Instead of isolating, I now enjoy conversations with family and friends. It's not perfect, but I'll take it!