The Secret Deafie: “My fingers are my eyes, my hands are my ears.” A poem about being deafblind

At weekends, we post some of the most popular articles from our archive. Tell us your favourites at thelimpingchicken@gmail.com

The Secret Deafie is a regular column about deaf experiences submitted anonymously by different contributors. In this instalment, a woman who is Deafblind has written a poem about her experiences…

My fingers are my eyes, my hands are my
ears. I create my sense of space with my
mind.

I depend on the memories of what I do,
not on the memories of what I see or
hear.

Everyone speaks a silent language;
everyone expresses a truth without
intention.

I remember the beauty of a place
because of how I remember feeling, the
light touching my body.

I always imagined the world people tell
me exists.

I learned the meaning of freedom when I
learned to accept the way I am.

Common sense will tell you many things:

Freedom is to do what you want to do for
yourself; to be independent.

I must remember one thing – I must be
open to other people.

Accept the way you are. Be true.

If you have a story you’d like to tell, just email thelimpingchicken@gmail.com