BY THEIR WORDS WILL YOU RECOGNIZE THEM

I know two deaf mutes.  The sister is silent,
Angelic in quietude like a sunset.
Her sub-group gestures in solidarity                                   
To a manual alphabet that's a work                                                
Of blessed theater to watch and revere.                                           
Mimes treat them like a cryptic tribe of seers.                                 
Story in movement,  her way of existence.                                       
Her nimble fingers can pierce like alarms rung
For emergencies or draw epilogues
With all the detailed code of espionage.
Her language is a composite for world peace.

The brother speaks boldly in a flat gabble.
He has long sworn off every translator.
Awkwardly,  his syllables simply uttered
Evoke wrong notes from an upright piano:
He struggles impatiently for euphony
Like a news commentator badly prepared.
Strangers inundate him with requests to stop
Like pigeons on a statue coming to life.
His shrill cries into darkness must continue:
They are secret whale songs,  alien to ears,
Vital sounds one must become accustomed to.

I know two deaf mutes.  One is a silent
Ray of light in a hushed melodrama.
The other,  singing notably off key,
Mutters his tune with firm integrity.