Xenoglossy
Xenoglossy
I learnt the language of silence
She declares
Miming is painful for the little girl
So that her eyes moves to the rhythm of xenoglossy- Silence
“Peace!” She declares as her eyes gloss over the leaves of the fall.
Pastel shades and spilling beans.
Of course she has no words for spilling beans and pastel shades.
Miracles do happen- the rhythm of xenoglossy
The language acquired without teaching
Visits the deaf girl
So that she feels the silent words in her bones and often in her skin
Not on her tongue.
Writing is too painful for her little hands
Reading impossible. Her green gaze is held
Permanently on the fluttering of the wings
Then a smile on her pursed lips.
Xenoglossy- bona fide kind
Beneath the xenoglossy of her own.
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