Carol

Deaf since five she thrives in silence. A friend in a way, and yet a barrier exists. I hear her sighs, but she cannot hear mine. Sometimes she closes her eyes when I try to talk to her. She wrote a book of poetry. I tell her I'd like to read it. (wondering how the quiet hum of nothing sounds). She blushes, asking why. Poetry is the bared soul. It's the only way I'll ever really know her. by Lisa (Teel) Rodriguez 1985