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.