‘Cloth ears’, my mum used to call me
when I got selectively deaf about an instruction,
or when I was absorbed with my nose in a book.
‘Oi, cloth ears!’. I’m talking to you.’
And it’s only recently I realized
where the phrase came from.
Mill workers, deafened by the roar of machinery ,
young ears, damaged beyond repair,
cotton cloth in exchange for hearing.
–
I am thinking of all this
as I trudge up the steep slopes of Ingleborough
on a path made of old stone slabs
taken, I’m told, from the local mills
when they closed down,
repurposed, protecting
feet from bog, and bog from feet.
–
For a moment my feet
connect with those
who trod these stones
over a century ago.
Day after day,
year after year,
toiling at the loom.
–
The wind sighs and a raven croaks,
the path twists through a soundscape,
that they could only imagine.
Life in the Fresh Air 
I had no idea that’s where ‘ cloth ears ‘ comes from. Beautiful writing and pictures. X
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Thanks! I didn’t know where cloth ears came from for most of my life! Also my mum used to say ‘cloth lugs’, meaning cloth ears.
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Oh, my. Thank you, Sarah.
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I haven’t heard that expression for years, but yes, it came from my parents. I didn’t know its origin either. Your poem is very moving, the way it weaves your walk with those that came before.
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Thanks Andrea, it all came into my mind as I was walking, those stones and the rhythm of walking, and a way of distracting myself from the hard work of walking up a steep slope!
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