Music:
Pieces en Concert -- Prelude, La Tromba, Air de
Diable. Subscribe to this site on Substack |
Hear me
read Watch me
read Copyright by |
I'm sorry I can't tell you what There's an anger I must cross Before I come to you And make my peace with who you are, And try your soul anew. I know I wasn't what you wanted When you wanted me, A healthy, happy baby girl You could raise easily. I was born impaired, and you Have never understood That what I am is whole and fair And beautiful and good. You were sorry, first for me And then for you, and wept, But I would not be me without The fact that I am deaf. I am a gift to celebrate And not a cause to grieve. As a child this was what I needed to believe. I needed but a different road To reach the common goal, But you decided there were things I couldn't do at all. And rather than accept what life Had given in its grace, You looked at what life had withheld And turned from its embrace. Ah, Mother! How you injured me By what you would not own! To love myself I had to leave And make my way alone, And have my children in the course Of what I would become, But always, always looking back To where I had no home. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
|