Daddy said it was a space shuttle...

Been there done that

at least once per year

since I was seven

Dad first told me

it was a space shuttle

I got excited-

A ride to the moon

Mommy drove me 

to visit the shuttle

clouds and animals-

tucans, tigers, monkeys-

covered walls and ceilings.

There it was in a room,

the big space shuttle.

I kept coming back

every single year-

used to put me to sleep

They pricked my hand

I used to cry, cry, cry

It used to have stickers

Lion King stickers, inside

It is just plain white, now.

I am older and I know

it is not a space shuttle

They still prick my hand

I learned to lay still

It's really hard to not-

wiggle, wiggle, wiggle

I still come back

every single year

It used to be very loud

but now the tube is silent.

I used to get a toy-

Now I just get a CD,

and schedule another.

My World Without Sound

I live my life in a kind of isolation, a nothingness. I see things
that aren't meant to be seen. My fifth sense has been snatched
away from me, without warning, without preamble. Growing up
all my life with sound, children laughing, birds singing, waves crashing
along the shoreline, only for it all to be taken away. I am lost,
I grieve as if I have witnessed someone close to me slowly perish. For years, I
had no control, over myself, over my life, over anything. I was simply forced
to watch while everything I knew, everything I'd once taken for granted, was taken away.
It is my world without sound. I "hear" things that aren't really there, memories,
recollections of how it should be, but isn't. As I drive in a car, I see a
neighborhood boy bouncing a basketball. I hear the thump-thump as the
ball smacks against the concrete, but it is not really there. When the dog barks,
I "hear" it, but it is not really there. When a child laughs, so innocent, I "hear" it,
but it is not really there. My world without sound. I would do anything, give anything
to hear the waves crash along the shore again.