The Girl Who Couldn't Hear

Shout her name. She will never hear you call.

I know a girl who lives elsewhere. Away from the noise of the city and the sirens of the firetrucks. She is far from the shouts of angry men and the groans of tired infants in crowded parks. There are no leaf blowers or rumbling noises coming from refrigerators. The sky does not get angry and there are no flashes of light to hide from. When she sleeps she does not hear the quiet and when she steps outside she hears no birds or breeze. If you call after her she will not turn around. 

Where is she? I'm not too sure.  

Sometimes I watched as she covered her ears with her headphones. I watched as her surroundings started to fade and her footsteps disappeared behind her. Her fingers tapped against her side in synch with the piano and she hummed the tune inside her head. 

You see, she takes the songs into her mind and stores them inside different rooms. She paints over the walls with their lyrics and reads them over and over. Maybe they'll understand her. She locks herself inside the corridors of her mind and steps into each room of song hoping the words will recognize her. A knock on the door and she enters a song but this time with different words. This one understands her regrets but it doesn't give her closure. She knocks on another door. This one paints her exhaustion but doesn't quite grasp her confusion. She tries again, and this one gives her restless sleep instead. 

I wonder for how long she'll keep searching for answers that have already found her. 

Today, the music shadowed over her ears and into her thoughts. The bees watched her walk by and the birds sang for her attention. The leaves rustled underneath her steps and went where the wind carried them. 

She was spoken to through the flowers today. She was waiting on lyrics and missed it completely. 

Sometimes I wonder why she searches in the songs that mourn her when all she has to do is listen to everything alive around her. Does she know these songs don't stay locked inside the rooms in her mind? Doesn't she feel painted lyrics of loneliness peel off the walls and crawl their way into her heart? There are stains of guilt that lyrics can't seem to wash away. I hope she knows that her heart is not a home to shame and uncertainty but instead can be a place where hope resides.

I remember thinking to myself that she was never really here. Her mind seemed to be occupied at all hours of the day. What could possibly be going on in that mind of hers? I often wonder if she'll take off her headphones and give her mind a chance to breathe. 

She would listen to words about mistakes and lessons learned. Long melodies illustrating loss and the closure she longed for. Does she know that she is listening to the stories of others? Does she realize that these lives are not her own? That those who write these words often reflect rather than advise? I hope she protects her ears from the sound of loss and heartbreak. I hope that she can recognize the difference between truth and subtle trickery. She often spoke about the importance of care. She worked hard to take care of her body and closely guarded her heart. I wonder how she cares for her mind. 

Now, I have told you about a girl who lives elsewhere. A girl who lives in the walls of the painted lyrics in her mind. She is away from me and she is far from you. I have called after her before but she didn't hear her name. I hope she will begin to hear the flowers. I hope she who is searching in music might take off her headphones and look up. 

You know her quite well. I hope she listens to the right voice. 

I hope she hears her name.