*This is a self-styled poem I wrote about my experience as a hearing child of deaf adults, encountering other deaf adults, mostly my parents’ friends and guests.
The Deaf man came to my house
grunting, moaning, his hands a knife of ideas
The air changed, and purple and red dots of shame
dyed my ears, my backwards ears
And I was invalid because of that man!
Through our teeth we mumbled in silence,
knowing both that I am his vassal.
He comes with signs that to me will always be magical spells.
To send words into the mind that harpoon sweet ideas into souls blessed with Deafness,
while I could only scrape the bottom of their barrel with my feet, fingers shoved in my ears.
I damn those ears, for they build a wall between me and the Men of Many Hands.
and I damn that Deaf man who stole my family with his talking fingers.