A Poet Rendered Wordless Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

I communicate
with my own improvised signs
and words
written in the pages
of a half-filled notebook.

I haven't yet
mastered your silent speech,
though you have been quick
to read my lips and poetry.


When we met,
I felt heavy with words,
and tried to coax dumb fingers
into a half-remembered language
scribbled in air with ferocity.
Frustrated,
I threw up my arms
and surrendered.


Ever wise in these matters,
you took my face in your hands
and kissed me.
In that brief moment
you taught me
the value of touch.


Thankful for the absence
of spoken word,
I moaned my latest verse
in silence,
entering a realm
where touch
was more important
than syllables and stanzas.