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Friday, April 13, 2012

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Poem: Sign Language

You see, there was a couple in the next seats in the subway.
They occasionally flapped her hands.
Normal, right?
But then they began to do a full flurry of it.
I was, to this time, looking out of the corner of my eye.
To stare is rude.
This time, however, I looked straight on.
Their hand waves had complex movements, finger this way, arm that.
I realized they were doing sign language.
They were having a conversation.
I looked, fascinated, at the fluid, coordinated movements, the hands dancing,
The limbs skating upon ice.
The underground train shuddered to a halt,
And admitted a band of rowdy kids from the station.
They talked in loud, uncontrolled voices,
And later noticed the two.
And they laughed.
Just because you’ve never been deaf,
Doesn’t mean you can’t be understanding.
Be the feeling part of this generation,
No matter how small.

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