Xenoglossy

Xenoglossy

I learnt the language of silence

She declares

Miming is painful for the little girl

So that her eyes move  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

Expression of joy lights her little face

Beneath xenoglossy of her own.