Beyond Paper & Pixels: The Theory of Relatability
His favored correspondence was texting–
with its acronyms & abbreviations;
hers was lengthy letters
written in cursive.
Both were considered a form of code
neither could understand–
his without her 9-year old niece
without his 75-year-old great-aunt.
When they met & talked to each other in person,
as all human beings should,
he couldn’t speak in shortcuts
any more than she could in cursive,
& they finally understood one another.
She kept him alive for the world,
breathing through machines.
Through his cell phone she did this,
texting his friends and family
in that language of his she knew so well,
posting on his Facebook account,
Photoshopping and age-progressing his pictures,
crafting the narrative of the life he’d wanted to continue living,
so that people continued to wish him a “Happy Birthday,”
long after he’d had his last.
Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 414
She drew pictures in the air,
her eyes conveying the depth,
her body language, the tone.
There wasn’t one voice in the world who could drown out hers.
Her shyness had matured to introvertedness,
& she saw her ability to listen rather than speak
become more appreciated by those who loved to hear themselves.
As a primary speaker of ASL,
she was deaf to his intelligence;
as a primary reader of Braille,
he was blind to her beauty.
She was deaf to his intelligence,
not to his music;
he was blind to her beauty,
not to her art.
It was the text that ended it all,
for had it been face-to-face,
what would have been typed
might have never been said at all.
She told him how she felt
in a 1000 poetic ways–
through the third-person
who was the funhouse mirror