Who is Deaf?

One warm and sunny Spring afternoon...

High above the Chasm of Nature, an eagle gracefully soars,
over coyote dreams and roadrunner dashes.
Deep inside the Gorge of Being, an unforgiving rapid roars,
over herons wings and cliff swallow flashes.

There are cumulonimbus all around us,
calling out for thunderheads to stir the dust.
The juniper trees begin to sway and fuss,
warning others; "Find some shelter, you must!"

The Storm will arrive but what shall survive?
The Pros from the North Rim?
The Cons from the South Rim?

The Rain starts to fall.
The Wind screams and howls.
The Lightning has a ball.
The Earth moans and yowls.

The Rain on North goes down to the River.
The Rain on South goes down all the same.
Pain is not a gift that is given by a Giver.
Sane is not the mind that functions like a game.

The Water falls.
The Eagle calls.

As the River rises,
come more surprises.
The voices of Me
all shout and plea,
"Damn that Dam!
Let us be free
to see the sea,
that Sea of Me."

Again and again and again.

They rant.
They rave.
They chant.
They crave.

The higher the water reaches,
the louder the Rapid preaches;

"We are Deaf! We are Deaf! We are Deaf!"

The faster the water flows,
the more the River shows.
Bigger, Stronger
Faster, Longer
Truth always fights with great persistence,
when facing the ignorant forces of resistence.

Then, there in the middle of the storm, a cloud cracks open and the Sun shines through.
The Light reached down and posed a question for the Water.

"Who is Deaf?"

Every drop of Water slammed in unison;

"Me!"

In that spontaneous instant, the clouds began to clear away while the Earth commenced to trembling. The walls of sand began to crumble as waves of Water tore away at the lies they had built.

It was done.

The Storm had come.
The dam had fallen.

Now here we be,
on our way to the Sea of Me
where we can be,

Not hearing impaired,
Me, all unrepaired.
Created as God had dared.
Not an Implantee,
just wholly Me.
Holy Me.

Where finally, at long last, the eagle has landed.