River Without Sound

Introduction:

I decided to edit this introduction because it did not appear right in any way I looked at it. The Poem below is what resulted from a little experiment with a Topic for my Poetry, especially this one. The Topic is being without one of you senses, in this case being without the ability to hear. How would a man possibly cope with or deal with such a loss and where would he find the ability to hear the wondeful sounds we often take for granted. I want readers to find much of this for themselves, which should be seen within the Poem. Please Enjoy:

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This is the best possible image for this Poem. Which works for this Poem and for this topic. . All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I looked for. Thus credit goes to AI for the image.

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River Without Sound 





Each evening eager, he followed the flow,
The river repeating what words couldn’t know.
Seasons sent storms, swelling strength unseen,
A rhythm ran through it, steady and clean.




No bell nor bird reached his waiting ear,
No spoken comfort to draw him near.
Yet something stirred where silence stayed,
A gentler pull where fear would fade.




Like rivers that listen not by ear but by land,
He learned how to feel what none could command.
Currents of calm, unvoiced yet sure,
Held him in motion, patient and pure.




When waters rose, rushing past measured banks,
He felt that same force rise up in thanks.
Not loud, not named, yet deep and wide,
A shaping presence moving the tide.




The winds passed on with no sound to plead,
Yet carried a promise he didn’t need read.
And birds bore brightness the air made known,
Truths in their turning, simply shown.




Once heavy his heart, now lifted and light,
Drawn by a depth that asked no sight.
Like faith, it flowed without form or sound,
Yet shaped his steps, kept him found.




Ne’er hearing, he heard what the stillness gave,
Not sound, but a summons steady and brave.
And onward he walked through silence and moons,
Carried by currents older than tunes.








Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved 

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Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

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