There is a silence between us that you might never see
As their fingers gently parr and position in the air
It's a secret, really, that the deaf have shared with me
When their lips form no words and we try not to stare

To be without the naturally assumed gift of sound
Neither reciving it or emmitting any objecting choice
I have felt the curious and depraved eyes all around
I sacrificed my tokens in a deathly sighlent voice

I stood at the door with the rest of them, enduring
I shared the crawling eyes and the sighlent laughter
With the even set of eyes of your conversor, wondering
What the next words your fingers will follow after

To be deaf, signing with them, for only a single day
To be silent, speaking with my hands, feeling they're way

-Tish Lynch

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