Autism Ponderings
He is a flighty bird.
This bird of mine.
He doesn’t seem to know how to cope
Even when he’s not caged.
Go, I say.
This is your free time to fly.
My bird shoots up to the ceiling,
And then takes a sharp left,
Squawking as he darts down,
Dangerously low.
Please Stop, my sweet bird.
This isn’t safe.
Why do you fly so erratically?
He doesn’t seem to hear me.
He loops around, still making
Squawky, unnerving sounds-
Of distress.
What’s wrong, my troubled bird?
How can I help?
I’m trying.
I opened a door.
Do you notice?
Come here, my flighty bird.
You seem so restless and bothered.
Will you land on my shoulder?
I’ll try to help calm you.
I now know I can’t do it alone.
Help from others is needed.
And that’s more than okay.
I’m banging on all the doors-
Alerting others.
Telling them all about
My sweet, troubled bird.
I want you to SOAR-
To feel the supportive currents beneath your bright wings.
To feel free and serene.
It will happen, my little bird.
I have faith.
Because I love you and
Because I know you.
