She speaks to me
with her hands.
Lean soft fingers
curling into letters.
Such an effort
to make
A hearing person understand.

Her voice ( which is rarely used),
strains to vocalize-
Rapidly her fingers spell
She touches her eyelids, mouth, chin.
Her sounds
lifting uncontrolled,
Words peal like wails
And I hurt for her.

She folds her lips, and tounge
Over the vibrations,
Each vowel a tear,
Each sentence a raging river.
Without syllables her story
Sweeps
like the broom of god
Over an ocean,

And I weep
Because I am the hearing one.