In The Land Of The Deaf (Poetry)

Not long five years old
and scarcely settled in
to school’s routine
the clamour of each day
began to fade — grow distant
and teacher’s voice a whisper
hardly registered above
the playground’s muffled sea

Cast adrift
in that quiet land
safely cocooned
each lesson through
without a jot of fuss —
for I never drew
their attention to the fact
I couldn’t hear

I can’t remember
how much time went by
before someone noticed
but eventually they broke into
my going-silent world
snatched me back
before I became
too used to it ...

I awoke with a sore throat —
no tonsils any more —
but a bowl of hospital ice cream
as cure and compensation
for surviving — what? —
a certain sense of peace
a pole apart that brief retreat
into my own
close-to-comfort zone

Arriving back
the train-loud years
roared all the future’s noise
as warning
yet passing sixty-five I am consoled
knowing age is slowly
deafening-up
my weary ears content to
screen-out the ever-gabbling crowd
and restore some poignancy —

the evening blackbird in the tree outside
sings on and on
his shrill notes softening
and fading somewhere way beyond
my soothed and grateful
half-remembered hearing