silence

Last Saturday, I noticed the framed poem on a wall when I walked into my friend's grandmother's kitchen for her graduation party. 

Silence

She cannot hear my words.  

The music is lost on her ears.

She cannot hear her children cry.

She only see their tears.  

Though the second of life is absent.

Her inner world is vast.

Through the graceful language of hand

Her spell on you is cast.

We watch in fascination

As she speaks with gestures grand;

Her emotions displayed openly

By the swiftness of her hand.

Her gaze on your intense,

She works hard to read your voice.

If you cannot speak her language, 

You see, she simply has no choice.

The wisdom, the joy, the precious life

That's trapped in a silent shell, 

Is released to us through fingertips;

To listen might do us well. 

-Lisa Williams Coggin