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Words from a Deaf Boy
Someone, please tell me,
What I want to know,
People say I can't hear
Please make it clear.
What is this thing,
That you call sound;
Made by rustling leaves
And by flowing streams?
What is music,
That makes life?
That can kill each pain,
Of a person in vain....
I've read in books-
There's music in everything.
Just how could this be?
Why isn't it in me?
Is it in the birds, too,
That I see up in the sky?
Is it in mother's love, too,
With which I grew?
Is my life incomplete
For there's no music in it?
Maybe... this secret will reveal,
When this beautiful thing I feel...
i really like it, you brought up the question of the importance of music in a different way. good job!
Shilpa, Again, another well written poem. I grew up near a deaf person. He felt music by the vibrations. He used art to coincide with the music which was playing. He had lots of books with the masters in. Just a suggestion. Linda