Muted

I miss my librarian, the woman at information, the teachers who took their time to hear me. They were always there to answer the questions no one else took the time to answer. They helped me learn and grow. 

I was sitting here today looking for answers to whom I could talk to since librarians are now often in the back and part time employees or the computer scans you to check out your books. The information phone lines are now obsolete. Even calling the information desk at the NYC library changed many, many years ago.

My sense of community seems lost among the rubble of the past. I feel so alone without those friendly voices; the people that were always there for me when no one else was. They were the voices that helped me hear my own. 

Now the song I sing is faint and barely heard over the screams of hatred, anger, and rage in the world. In my sadness and isolation I can barely hear my own voice, let alone anyone else's song of joy. 

I so long to hear the song in my heart that has faded. I so long to hear the harmony that comes with the songs of others. I'm still listening for the remaining songs and voices of others through the current white noise; the buzzing, thud, thud of the needle at the end of the LP. 

I wish I could call to ask, can you hear me? Did I too fade away with the long forgotten past? Will there be another world in which for me to sing?