Lullaby to My Infant Self

My silent little dear

snoozes in his cradle

beyond the noises

I can no longer hear.

 

The quiet drip of

rain and sink,

the swoosh of

inside air circulating,

the vibrations of life

I can hear only with

mental captions on,

are the inaudible sway,

that separates you from me.

 

Can you hear my smile

with closed eyes,

will you love the

silence or the noise?

 

Will you delight in

birdsongs or

in fluttering wings?

 

Will you laugh at

the music of the spheres

or delight in quiet

thoughts and contemplation?

 

 

Child of my April dreams

and September haunts

who breathes in the

whitewash walls of my soul,

what you choose to see or hear,

at first walk, I will protect

under the signing of my hands.

 

 

*This is a poem about my looking back at my baby self, before I contracted Scarlet Fever and became  near deaf, wondering what I would choose if I had the option to hear or be deaf.