Saturday, February 14, 2015



I fall asleep with susurrations,
Whispers in my mind.
Among the countless cache of voices,
No friend can I find.

Words there are, and hissing anger,
Gasps of pain and fright,
Cries of fear from present danger,
Fill my mind each night.

Is it just imagination,
Product of my brain;
Or is it my anxiety --
Born of stress and strain?

Though the chorus oft crescendos,
Ocean at high tide;
Soon the brassy cacophony,
Begins to subside.

The voices soften, whispering,
Gently laugh awhile.
Words now are drifting, bright as if,
Uttered with a smile.

Faint murmurs drift, a brief snowfall,
Tender from above.
Words seem to matter not at all,
Are they thoughts of love?

I wake up, and pray it isn’t
Crazy as it seems --
That tinnitus may be hearing,
Sounds of other dreams.

Mick McKellar
February 2015

I have long had tinnitus and cannot remember what silence sounds like. Sometimes the sounds are like soft voices in the dark.


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