To
hear, I thought, would change
life for the better,
but I learned silence is still golden.
(A four line poem is composed of four lines, with a syllable count of 1/5/5/9. I have been hard of hearing most of my life and missed out on much, and at age 45, finally broke down and got hearing aids. While I do enjoy life more fully now that I am not missing every other word that is spoken or noise that resounds, there are times when I find myself longing for the peace and utter quiet that once surrounded me on a regular basis.)
I love the parenthetical story that you wrote along with the poem. If you were so inclined, I’d love the read a piece about that experience of having a fuller life but missing the quiet. Maybe a beginning for a longer poem?
I hadn’t thought of that, but I do like the idea, so may run with it. Thank you!
One sort of related idea I had was to write about a conversation between me, my father, and my sister. All three of us are varying levels of deaf in both ears. My sister learned sign language, but Dad and I are too busy/tired/lazy for that thus far.) When the three of us and my mom sit around the table and converse, my mom is the only one who ever really knows what’s being said, as she has superhero level hearing. She’ll start the discussion with one topic, and before we know it there are four separate conversations going on, but Mom is the only one who knows that. Us non-hearing folks will be carrying on totally unrelated conversations and not even realize it until or unless Mom points it out for us.