I look across at my old friend
Not seen for nearly sixty years
Seeing the aids inserted
In both one of his ears.
Not quite the village idiot then but
Considered clottish, stupid, thick,
The recollection of his treatment
Now made me feel a little sick.
Not exactly victimised, but lonely
Always on the edge of the group
As we wandered our little village
A motley adolescent boys troupe.
And we would laugh and snigger
At his slow speech and understanding
None of realising that for him
Communication was so demanding.
No time for special teaching
In a multi aged village school
Just one teacher present
To control, discipline and rule.
So my old friend slipped
Further and further behind
Undiscovered disability hiding
The agility of his mind.
Patronised by his peers,
Grudgingly accepted,
Not quite of the gang
Not quite fully integrated.
I left and we lost touch
For far too many years
When we met again I saw
The aids fitted in both ears
And heard him speak
The way some deaf do
And suddenly and clearly
Took a very different view.
This man who for years
Had been a person of ability
Not fully appreciated then
Because of hidden disability.
Now he can hear clearly
It's a very different picture
Widely acknowledge now as
A knowledgeable twitcher.
So we chat as equals
Talk of lost school friends
And I'm glad for the chance
For me to finally make amends,
