write to show, tell

not all the deaf
are hard
of hearing

not all the
blind are
short of
seeing

not all the
mute are
kept from
speaking

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

there’s a sound
underground
that is sounding

there’s a speck
in the eye
that is speckling

there’s a word
on the tongue
that is smithing

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

there’s some thing the
deaf
aren’t hearing

there’s some
thing the
blind’s not
seeing

there’s a
vowel that the
dumb has stopped
mouthing

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

in the sound
of the page
already turning

and the match
to the wick
that is burning

from the clock
where the arms
are still ticking

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

between lines
of a verse
the wise are teaching

under nails
clawing dirt
with much digging

between lips
chapped and scorched
quietly trembling

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

the mute will
shout a sound
that’s deafening

the blind will
hear their own names
by listening

the deaf will
be flashed by light that’s
blinding

would that it’d be
would that it’d be

© 2010 andrew kooman

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