~
She is mute
&
I'm blind.

Phone call: pieces of

sentences alternately --


pasted together.

The first time I met them,
I was met with silence;
These who did not speak.
They were unfamiliar with communication.
They were silent, but pondering beasts.
They looked up to me
With eyes full of fear.
Such beautiful innocence
When you lashed out at me,
For you were only trying to protect yourself
At what you perceived as dangerous.
But I placed my hand on your shoulder,
I rested my head against yours.
In your confusion,
I embraced you.

As a little child

I already cried and laughed:


don't leave me alone.

The blind man answers,

politely, all the questions --


not put to him, though.

I speak carefully,

so it doesn't wake her up while --


she listens to me.

I can already

scold in this language, now I'm --


learning the sweet words.

She says nothing, there's

just a kind of sigh, a groan --


that makes me happy.

I communicate through songs and poems,
gestures and strings and keys and underlines
fewer words, rather melodies to follow
articulating my thoughts
better than I ever could