The Man Who Refused to Listen

Harvey is a friend of mine and his ears no longer work.
He made a choice some years ago and closed his ears to life.
It did no good to beg and plead, his friends could not prevail.
So now his ears are vestiges, their doors are bolted tight.

He didn’t from youth start out that way, it built as he moved along.
He heard the noise the world sent out and the torment caused him pain.
He feigned at first to remove himself from the tumult and the fray.
But bit by bit the din prevailed and pounded his brain at will.

We tried our best to talk him out of trying such a cure.
He argued that it made good sense to avoid the wicked curse.
He often shook his fist at God for making him like Job.
No answer did he ever hear but silence from The Throne.

He must have thought that silence was balm to sooth the searing pain.
For in some moment unbeknown it formed his guiding plan.
He’s often asked to tell the ‘why’ of that which he has done.
He answers with a vacuous smile, “I’ve had enough, no more.”

It starts out small as most things do, but becomes a ball and chain.
Is there an hour when ears go deaf and ignore the preacher’s plea?
Or the reading of a recent death, or the cry of a hungry child?
Or maybe it’s the neighbor, who needs a helping hand?

Our friend had always heard from life, just what he wanted to hear.
Indifferent to the cares of life he turned a muted ear.
And now his ears have set him free from trauma everywhere.
His love is turned to bitter scorn, and his heart to solid stone.

The ways and means are plentiful to flee the vicissitudes.
But when we separate ourselves we live in a lonely tomb.
Some choose to close their eyes to the intrusions of this life.
Others use their email to live in outer space.

It’s easy to remove ourselves from grief as Harvey’s done.
Turn off the tube, quit reading news and cower in our caves.
But what’s the use of doing that and missing all the fun?
For that’s what life’s all about and the bad comes with the good.

I asked our friend if he’ll open his ears and try the world again.
He said, “It’s irrevocable, and the thing I’ve done is done.”
But now he sees a paradox in the condition that he chose.
The less he hears, the more he yearns for the life he’s left behind.

I wrote my friend to give advice to those who would try the same.
Weeks went by but soon it came, the letter with a terse reply.
The stains of tears were hard to miss as I read the simple words:
“Unstop your ears, the noise you hear, is the music of the dance.”

The road goes on forever and the party never ends!

Bud Hearn
August 11, 2011