The Noise I Breathe
He stalks me for all but the
Short five hours of the day while I sleep.
6am, the sun rises,
Clang, bang the pots and pans.
As grandmother cooks he creeps
From the kitchen into my room.
Frightened and annoyed by his disturbance,
I awake to my daily life
Where he continues to stalk
And sting my ears.
On the bus, in class, at home,
He lurks every corner, everywhere.
Anywhere you go he’s there,
Especially when you need peace.
The air by which I am circulated,
Is circulated by an air not of air -
But of noise.
And after breathing in this
Intoxicating atmosphere for eighteen years,
The effects and suffocation cannot be
Tolerated any longer.
If my ears were goalies,
They would fail miserably;
None of the noise is blocked out.
If noise was a murderer,
He’d pierce every time –
With no regard for the situation,
No regard for me.
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