sweet sound lost found

Everyone is blind, that’s the first thing. In this story, no one can see, and some can fake it well. To know someone, to meet them, is to feel all over their face. It requires touch and trust, and a lot of people are alone in this story. Fear seems to be what keeps them there. The world around them is like our own, with color and shapes and sunsets, but they’re blind and none of it matters. They speak in grunts and yells and sobs; to you and I, it is a very sad existence, not like ours at all, or course. These “people” are animals, not like us.

One day a man who introduces himself as “Grrr!” stumbles into an object of some sort and yells “Grrr!” Grrr, you see, is like most of the blind, and having no words to sort through his emotions, he is always confused and upset. The object he ran into, however, is different, and Grrr notices this immediately. Instead of making a loud noise back at Grrr, the object makes a sound Grrr has never imagined before, a high pitched, and soft, “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.” Grrr is now more confused than usual, and the sound keeps going, “awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”

Incidentally, a few years ago someone tried to touch Grrr’s face, and it was quite a sensation, and it confused Grrr about as much as this noise was confusing him right now, and he got angry, and he bit a finger off of the person. He’d never tasted blood before that. Soon he started doing this to others, getting them to touch his face – and they would do this softly – and then he would taste their blood, and he would enjoy it. This sound though…

Grrr could not move. If Grrr knew language, he would call the sound “…my God…” Bu he doesn’t. So he grrr’s. “Grrr!” The sound from the object changes pitch, goes a bit higher, but stays just as sweet: “Maaaaaaay,” it sings, “aaaaaaaay.” Grrr stops growling. For a moment he stands listening, then, he reaches out his arm toward the object, toward the sound, and begins to feel the most wonderful sensation on his hand: Breath.

Warm, flowing breath.

The object’s sound changes pitch again, going even higher with a “Ziiiinnnnnnnng,” and without warning it carefully moves it’s form forward, it’s soft cheek ending up within the palm of Grrr’s hand. Grrr does not move. Grrr, in fact, does nothing but accept the offering.

This is the first cheek he has felt.

The object starts moving its face around, allowing Grrr’s fingertips to graze over its features.

This is the first chin he has felt.

This is the first nose.

This is the first eyebrow,

the first hairline,

the first ear.

These are the first lips he has felt.

This is the first tear he has felt. It is his own.

“Uhhhhhhh,” says Grrr, “uhhh, uhhhhhhh…” He begins to cry. At that moment, another sound begins to fill the air, another pitch: “Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…” The sound goes on forever “aaaayyyyyyyy” and ever “aaaayyy” and ever “aaayysssssssss….” until Grrr has stopped crying all together. Grrr feels a hand touch his face – actually, not a hand, no, a thumb and a palm, and the thumb wipes away his tears.

This is the first peace he has felt.

After that, as the story goes, Grrr became alone. The touch on his face had disappeared, and the sound which we call “oh God” was nowhere to be heard. From that point on, however, Grrr felt a strange tingling in the middle of his chest; some would call it a coolness, others would call it an awakened soul.

In this world where sunsets are unseen, and music is unsung, and faces are untouched, change is occurring. A man named Grrr was taught a song once, and now he can’t help but sing it. And this song, and this touch, and these tears – it seems like this is what everyone’s needed, because no one’s stopped.

In the middle of the night, in pure darkness, a voice is heard:

“Awwwww-Maaaaaaaayyyy-Ziiiiinnnnnng-Graaayyyyssssss…

how sweet the sound,

that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost,

but now am found,

twas blind but now I see.”