Silent Night
He stood at the podium
his faced full of blood
from the heat of the body-filled room
and the pressure of the eyes all turned to him
The heavy room was silent
a pin dropped would be heard
Except for by him
for he heard nothing
At last he spoke
from a determination he did not know he possessed
Words, nervously chasing each other
A landslide of emotion
a toppling verbal fort
gaining momentum
as did his courage
He spoke of beauty,
isolation, peace, sadness and strength
He spoke of the sounds of things
the language of the cosmos, our thoughts turned action
Turned speech
The sounds of life
sweet and sour
Comforting as waves breaking
As simple as a single bird chirping
The sounds we often take for granted
until we hear it no more
Nostalgic and regretful
he pined for the life that was
When the world was full of sound,
resonated with life
He yearned for a simple tune
Oh just to hear a baby laugh
one more time!
He concludes
his soul bare
his breath spent
The audience erupts
He can feel the room vibrating with applause
and the light in their ecstatic faces
He is glad, relieved
As he returns to his seat
a stranger claps him on the back and whispers something
A word of encouragement
Perhaps
But he will never know
for he is deaf
Just another poet
alone in his words
Alone in our world
8 Comments:
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My reaction, simply.
ha, i did not remember reading this and came to comment, curious as to the other 3 comments.
was gonna say this reminds me of "my" (only posted, did not author) hungry poet poem, but realized i'd get nauseous from someone who keeps claiming similarities in writing/interests etc. so i shall refrain.
...or, perhaps just as nauseous from someone who's posts remind you of your own...;)
although i definitely don't recall your Hungry Poet or your Snow poem, my posts certainly may have been plagiarized unknowingly. i read a lot of your stiff "back in the day" when blogging/writing was very new to me.
my theory about writing style is that (for example) an OT educated dude (i.e. one who never explored any literary works) who learns to write from chabad.org, will probably have a hard time removing chabad.org rhetoric from his writing.
Similarly with blogging. so in light of above, your blog may still be stuck in my head and/or in these lines....
You calling my writing "stiff", eh?
Makes sense, what you say. One reason why most blogs are pathetic to me--they sound like the other fifty million they just read. (Not putting you in that category.)
This is the snow piece http://altishalioti.blogspot.com/2007/02/and-g-d-looked-at-his-world-and-he-saw.html
and the hungry poet doesn't fit anymore cuz i had read the last stanza of yours wrong last time.
derech agav, it took my a minute to realize why an occupational therapist would have no literary background :D
great piece, never seen it (could be your blog was still privatized then..) and (at the same time)surprisingly unencrypted
thanks :)
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