Thoughts on Hearing Loss.

Some time ago I woke up to find that I had experienced Sudden deafness Syndrome. A mystery. In the following two poems I try to express something of my experience.

New Room.

I have entered a new room

Its name is deafness.

I try to shut the door

Refusing to enter.

But the door behind is closed

And I am in this room.

A strange, new room

Empty and waiting.

To be filled with what?

I press my face against the door that closed behind me.

I want it back

That life I took for granted.

No music?

But that’s filled my soul.

No clarity or certainty with words?

Unsure and in a daze,

My understandings dimmed,

The world a blur of sounds

Unclear.

Or else  cacophony of noise.

An orchestra that’s tuning up forever-

The symphony to never be performed.

I try to read the faces,

Respond to gesture and expression

But I’m a sham.

I fake, pretend, murmur answers and responses

Knowing  they are false.

Cocoon is where I want to be

Curled up and safe.

Alone and with the music in my head to comfort and sustain.

My home is silent

Dawn to dusk.

The earphones make the “box” a friend

But not the music.

My CD’s are untouched, the radio put away,

The company I kept that filled my house with music

Has gone away forever

And the tune that plays in my head

Is all that’s left.

My friends and family

All want to help.

They care.

Move on from resignation to acceptance.

You’ve done it before.

Remember how.

Do it again.

Refuse to entertain that wretched guest, self pity.

Life is so good

Now and before.

All through the years.

My father’s words ring true.

I hear his voice repeating,

“God is good.”

The Owl.

I perch nearby

Look down and see

A nest filled up with hatchlings.

Their beaks are open wide

A thousand feathers flying.

The patient mother drops a worm.

They squawk and flap.

Cacophony of joy.

She drops the next

And bedlam fills the air.

I watch.

I smile.

I share.

I am alone

But

I am there.

One of the rules imposed on the teachers by the School Board in Etobicoke, Ontario, where I taught for five years, in the 70’s, was that we were never to show any audio visual films, to our students, unless we had previewed them first.

In the Catalogue, under the heading, “General Film-  Levels K. to Yr 12.”, was a title for an animated film called, “WALKING.” The description sounded so innocuous, that I thought, No need to preview. What could possibly be a problem with a little animated film suitable for kids from kindy through to Yr 12. I’ll use it as a Language exercise to motivate writing about their observations of all the different ways walking takes place.

I darkened the room and we settled down to watch.

The animated film began well, with colourful scenes of various people, old and young, rich and poor, walking through all kinds of different places, like parks, beaches and forests .The score was zippy and I could see lots of ways to use the content in discussion afterwards.

But then, nearing the end of the film, a close- up of two naked feet filled the screen, and the camera began to pan up and up the bony legs, showing the nobbly knees, and on up, until, frozen with horror, I realized the male figure, walking so jauntily, was going to be utterly naked. As the camera moved up, his interesting little genitalia seemed to take on a life of its own, with music to match. I froze, but sat, controlled and expressionless as my Year 5 children took a peep at me to see my reaction. Apparently I was quite used to seeing naked males in living colour on the screen, and I valiantly ignored their giggles and nudges .

But there was more.

The next shot showed large sexy feet, with painted toenails. Oh no! A naked female! Up and up, past dozens of dancing little pubic hairs, blowing in the breeze and on up, to the little pink nipples keeping animated time to the music.

The news spread throughout the staff, like a wildfire out of control.” Come and see Meg’s porno  movie……….. private screenings in the library throughout the lunch hour. Adults Only.”

When I was in Canada, 35 years later, at a reunion with a group of those same teachers, one of them reminded me of the incident, and said it had been the highlight of her whole teaching career.