We are sitting in the audience, still. Silence, like the bullet that’s missed us, spins—
Deaf Republic tells the terrifying parable of a country taken over by a brutal military regime and, more specifically, the resistance and suffering of one couple and village. To isolate only one small image out of Kaminsky’s long-awaited Deaf Republic feels like a horrific distortion. But the images of silence threaded through the collection are crucial to the work’s purpose.
In the nursery, quiet hisses like a match dropped in water.
In the ears of the town, snow falls.
Silence like a dog sniffs the windowpanes between us.
What is silence? Something of the sky in us.
Kaminsky’s imagery paints silence as a large, enlarging, isolating, complex, and dangerous force. We are sitting in the audience, still. Silence, like the bullet that’s missed us, spins— In Deaf Republic silence becomes a projectile, a weapon. It can kill, maim, threaten, rob, subdue, conquer. The silence Kaminsky describes is not neutral, but fearful. It is an energy moving, volatile, a form of power. Even though it may seem as if we have been saved from injury, the poem suggests that the destruction that silence will cause—that has missed us only by chance—persists. There is always collateral damage.
Deaf Republic warns that questioning social and political silence and examining our own culpability are urgent necessities. As Kaminsky writes in the collection’s notes,“The Deaf don’t believe in silence. Silence is the invention of the hearing.” Deaf Republicchallenges readers to reconsider silence, to feel stirred and troubled by the silences around and within us, which is also the work that the best images do.