By Amy Carbonneau
Sometimes I feel I am a paper
being used for Origami,
folded and creased,
unfolded and flipped,
until I can't handle anymore
or I will tear.
And that is when,
with one final tug,
I go from plain paper
to swan.
...Can you hear me? Listen, not with your ears But with your eyes, My Silent Hands. Hear me tell my tale. Hear me sing my song. Learn my Language, My beautiful native language. Hear my hands, Hear my music and story. Learn my language. Speak to me with your hands. Share my beautiful language...
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