Tag Archives: Poem

He may never be popular…. A Poem by Heather

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As some of you may know, I’ve recently offered up my blog space as a forum through which both parents of children with Autism and adults with Autism themselves, can begin to share their own stories and experiences in their own words. Some of them may be first time writers, others well seasoned veterans. Yet all of them, in their own ways will have something important to say.

I hope you will take the time to read and value the wisdom that they all have to share.

This first poem has been written by Heather,  mother of a son with Autism.

Your son may never be popular,

May never  be considered cool,

He may never have kids knocking on the door for him after school,

Or enjoy the pleasures of being just a kid  larking around,

Sport many never be an interest he has found,

He may never get excited about what Santa may bring,

And to him the tooth fairy coming,

May never mean a thing,

He might not find any pleasure in reading the latest book,

Or ever see the joy in discovering how trendy he could look,

But the little things that may pass us by,

He will see with his own inner eye,

Like the silliness of having a falling out,

And of making others cry,

His quirky ways and honest thoughts,

His viewing of things in different ways,

Of seeing through the falseness  of pretense,

Of not caring for a phase,

You see,

Without the complexities of friendships,

That confuse,

Facts and figures,

Dates and times,

True stories from real life,

They never lose,

So before you grieve,

Or feel sad for someone who doesn’t pas,

“The test’,

Just for one minute,

Bin the bad points,

And realize instead,

That you are,

Truly blessed.

Written by Heather.

 

Language Of The Soul

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A poet’s words,

Are not just written,

They are an inscribed,

Razored calligraphy,

That enters the skin,

Allowing words,

To be worn forever,

From the outside,

In.

 

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Family Lines

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Are we to be strung,

Here,

forever,

Bound,

By the muted truths,

We are never,

Allowed,

To mention,

While you shield,

Yourself,

Within the lines,

You’ve taught each of us,

To hold,

As we dance,

Painstakingly,

Around,

Our families,

May Day pole,

Held together only,

By our familiar,

Conspiratorial web,

Of silence,

Don’t ask,

Don’t talk,

Don’t tell,

Isn’t that our motto?

Our family’s well worn creed,

Of

Mutual,

Dishonour.

Homosexuality isn’t a health risk… Hatred is.

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Homosexuality isn’t a health risk,

Though homophobia most certainly is.

Hatred is a poison letter,

Its message,

Kills both the sender,

And the receiver,

It is hatred that allows,

One group of  people,

To forget so easily,

That the human condition,

Requires more than just faith,

To love is an act,

It is an Aspect of being,

Love does not discriminate,

For discrimination is hatred’s food,

So why fill your plate,

With such an unpalatable,

Misunderstanding?

 

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Special Discrimination

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Television content rating systems

My son no longer finds safety,

In your heavily sanctioned,

Familiarity,

He longs to break free of your rulings,

Designed as they are,

For small-minded children,

And not for young adults,

With thoughts and desires of their own,

Disabilities or no,

My son is a young man of clarity,

With hopes and goals,

And dreams of his own,

Why must you seek to contain him?

Isn’t it your job to help him to grow?

I give you his days in the trust,

That you will honor your obligations,

How is ignoring his voice when he speaks it,

Upholding your charter to promote,

Understanding, support and humanity?

When you stop becoming part of the solution,

You inevitably become part of the problem,

My son deserves better than being trapped,

In just another endless version,

Of educational  bureaucracy,

If he’s smart enough to know,

That the way you are treating him isn’t right,

Then he’s smart enough to grow,

And walk well beyond your light.

So please be advised that we will not be beholden,

To yours or anyone elses,

‘Well meaning’ forms,

Of  ‘special’ discrimination.

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Child Bride

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The Darkness

The child of two lost souls,

Still searching for an anchor,

Chosen as much for her vulnerability,

As her beauty,

She became fruit for his harvest,

Sun kissed,

Pastel dress,

Willowy and wholesome,

Yet bathed in the sin,

Of errant beliefs,

Her gifts transformed her,

Into his sacrificial lamb,

Patiently he’d watched her flesh grow,

As he’d secretly inhaled her youth,

Until this day,

When he’d make manifest,

His ancient  alchemical way,

Of transforming a girl child,

Into a physical gift.

Wrapped in the white,

Concealment ,

Of silken ribbons,

Behold,

The prophets new child bride.

Lost and alone,

Afraid and betrayed,

Encircled by those,

Who chose to obey,

Too blindly,

The well crafted lines,

Designed to conceal,

This,

His most contemptuous,

Theft.

Life mistaken for death,

And endless vulnerability.

I (Eye) Contact

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It’s not so much that I avoid ‘I’ contact,

It’s more that I avoid your contact.

On my own I am fine,

It’s only when you insist on designing,

My time,

That I am perceived to be broken,

But these cracks are not my own,

They are entirely of your making.

So why is it that you insist so,

On fixing the parts of me,

That are not broken?

You see,

On my own I am fine,

I can make of myself,

My own safe island.

It is you who invade my shores,

Replacing my thoughts with your own,

Meaningless tokens.

Please do not insist so,

On breaking me open,

I do not wish to engage with your ideals of I contact,

Can’t you see I have my own?

Gauzed Silence

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Seventh Voice Original

Transfixed humans,

Encapsulated by land,

Their taste of first luxuries,

Crafted lovingly,

By skilled hands,

Creating sated tongues,

That cooled,

In the gauzed silence,

Of childhood memories,

Held safe,

In the  cemented time,

Before machined,

Democracy,

First uttered,

Captialisms name.