School For The Deaf Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

There is so much in words
that I feel is not enough
as I come to give a reading
in the school for the deaf

to a small group
who cannot hear my voice
yet who have come
of their own choice.

Their eyes are not fixed
on me, what my lips say.
They read my words
in silent finger-tracings

patterns, feathery shapes interlacing:
finger-twirling porcelain ballet dancers.

And the evening ends
in smiles, deep sighs.

And I acknowledge the applause,
my gestures of thanks sincere.

As are those of the ones
whose patterns of words their
seeing alone could hear.