Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Seeing the Person Inside

Absentminded gaze out of two windows
renders floating blue squares when I
close my eyes

I've never had anything for people to stare
at except, perhaps, my "last-two months-"
pregnant bellies

I see the vacant expression on the ten-year
old (or so) child pushed in my direction in
a type of stroller

After I avert my eyes, my mind is still
haunted by the face and I stealthily sneak
one more look

Perhaps it is the parent I see, going on
with her life, as if it is normal, as if she
bears no burden

My son first wore hearing aids in his ears
and their function was obvious and people
either ignored him or

Talk quickly to me and smile too wide
but didn't ever tell me that he was a cute baby
when his aids were in

Now we wear a bone conduction aid,
mounted on a headband and his sister says
it looks like he is contacting aliens and I
think that he looks like he is ready to
perform surgery and his older brother says,
"I have the cutest brother of all time."

People don't know what it is and even at
the parent/baby class, they avoid us; avoid
my sweet son

One woman is brave and asks me about it
and I tell her how it makes my son hear more

She nods and moves her son along to the next
toy and I have empathy for her and how she
is relieved it is not her son and how she feels bad
for being relieved and how she can close her eyes
but still see the faint outline of what could be and
then, life is unpredictable and unkind and scary
so she opens her eyes to the next diversion until
she can forget

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