I think it was about this time (2005) that we decided to put together a collection of poems about autism, and in particular about parenting an autistic child. "Story" was written in honor of my wonderful support group of other mothers with low functioning children -- mothers who helped me get through this, more than anything else, but it is also for everyone out there who has people they can talk to.
India:
This is a very short piece, but talking to Karen before I wrote it was essential to convey the feeling of relief gained when you encounter someone who truly gets it.
Story
I’ll bring the coffee,
You have a seat.
Make yourself comfy,
Put up your feet.
Tell me a story.
Then I’ll tell one too.
How did you react,
What did he do?
Were you embarrassed,
Could you just die?
Did anyone notice
Did you sit down and cry?
Tell me a story;
Make me cry ‘til I laugh.
Then I’ll do the same
on your behalf.
Tell me a story:
Something wild;
For I also have an autistic child.
India DeCarmine
Karen:
People often misunderstand. I once got a look from someone in a parking lot of the local beach after Billy had hit me. Billy was upset because we had to turn around and go home due to thunder, when we thought we were going swimming.
People often misunderstand. I once got a look from someone in a parking lot of the local beach after Billy had hit me. Billy was upset because we had to turn around and go home due to thunder, when we thought we were going swimming.
Moments of Grace
Ah . . .there’s the look.I know it well.
The frown that comes before I tell this stranger that my son, my Bill,
has autism;
I’ve had my fill
of censure,
of the furrowed brow,
of having to explain the how, the why, the now.
Still, once it’s done, the stranger’s face
sometimes conveys a moment’s grace,
Granting me a brief reprieve
And in that moment’s space - I breathe.
That is, if Bill is still in view.
If not, I’ve other things to do.
