by Lydia Flores
there is a language
the tongue cannot
kiss the teeth to speak
but there is a silence
only the hands know
a sunrise upon the face
and that body is
a rising hallelujah.
Shape the words into
a mother tongue of signs—
wonders splayed across
the space of mouths
an orchestral poem
of quiet if you just
listen
with the eyes
of your heart
hear the symphony
of prayer, the
cacophony of
talk over coffee
the vibrato of a
nonverbal song.
Look, hands are singing now
& making boardwalks out of
borders, you’ve built with
your mouth; healing
the wounds of your ears
will you learn to listen now?
hands are oceans reaching
shores of a language your
throat cannot cross
there’s a sign for this…
hands up & unclosed
dancing, talking
signing &
rising
bodies of wonder
waking the world
to drop their tongues.
Editor’s Note:
“Lydia Flores brings to her poems a spiritual luminosity reminiscent of Adelia Prado and Sarah Arvio. There is a tremendous boldness of spirit and urgency in her poems. Even after losing her home in a fire, stuck in a homeless shelter, Lydia keeps on writing poetry with all her being. With two other poet friends of Lydia’s, Omotara James and Sarah Kaplan Gould, we created a GoFundMe to help Lydia recover from the fire and resume her life.” – Idra Novey, Contributing Editor to Aster(ix)
Please support Lydia Flores: https://gofund.me/d97cc080
This poem was originally published by The Deaf Poets Society in 2017.
