It Was She. Poem by Nathalia Hunter

Sounds that make out words
Spill out of her mouth.
They form sentences
I can no longer hear,
Nor comprehend.

Watching her lips move..
Her mouth opening and closing

Is her voice soft and light?
Is it as beautiful as she?
That I will never know.

Can every person understand me?
No.
Can every person speak how I speak?
No.
Can she understand me when I speak?
Yes.
Can she speak like I do?
Yes.

I speak with my hands
And I sing with them too.

I do not hear the music when it
Plays.. I feel it.
I feel the music run through my
body into my bloodline.

I can dance to the beats
Of every song.

Though I can't hear,
I am not disabled.
I'm deaf;
Not disabled.

Though not everyone can understand me
Or even speak my language,
I can read theirs.

I can speak, but not in words.
I speak with motions,
I paint my words into the air using my hands.

I can and am able to do anything
and everything I set my mind to.
Why?
How?

Because it was she who raised me.
Because it was she who showed me
I am no different than you.

I am deaf not disabled.