The Secret Lives of Elephants or On Being Deaf
Maybe elephants can hear mountains.
Maybe each mountain range creates a different sound,
A different tone when the wind blows over it.
A soundscape as vivid as a landscape,
Only visible to an elephant’s ears.
I am like an elephant.
With my tinnitus : (the perception of sound within the human ear
in the absence of corresponding external sound)
I can hear the mountains talking to me,
I can hear the sun and the wind, the sky also
When no one else can.
These phantom sounds have guided me
Through the plains of my life,
From coast to coast.
And I have survived the deafening silences in between
This hissing and humming in my head.
Memories have a voice- high pitched, cricket-like in tenor.
If my eyes are closed I cannot hear the world outside,
Only the world in my head.
I read lips to guide me through the terrain,
And when the lips fail me, I am lost-
Without food or water.
And I die.
I can hear things that you can’t though.
I can feel the warrior in yoga, the curl of the back
The opening of the heart.
Even if I miss the direction.
I can hear the quiet in between the quiet
And the arches of eyebrows, the pursing of lips.
I can hear the music of unspoken gestures
the tick tock of need, the roaring of lust,
and the whining of dissatisfaction.
I can hear the tree frog sound of anger
Even though your mouth moving in circles alludes me.
The mountains enunciate, their serrated ridges open with pleasure
And look me in the eye.
Hearing them is a breeze.
Even if my eyes are closed,
I can hear them with my big deaf elephant ears.
I have finally realized the sounds in my head were angels.
They have been talking to me since I can remember.
I didn’t recognize them until now however.
They told me not to worry that I cannot hear what’s going on around me
Because what they have to say is so
so much more important.
Jennifer pastiloff feb 13 2009 rough draft
