He is my boy.
They can’t decide just what else he is though.perhaps something
from that Awesome and terrible Space
of Distinctly other.
He is small for his age.
We don’t mind that.
It’s the food issues that concern us much more.
Prone to allergies and respiratory ailments
since his pneumonia before he was two
Emotional Intensity in spades, as they say.
He just really can’t stand when things aren’t right.
epic in scale
are sadly, a daily occurrence.
It’s not a tantrum.
It’s watching his heart breaking.
Over and over
again and again.
He’s a bright guy,
Reads at well over double his grade level.
His vocabulary is tremendous.
He builds Great
He sees Everything.
But cannot readily understand
the feelings of others.
He loves to play outside.
Outside is where He wants to be
he paused ahead of me on the walk.
“I’m afraid of nature”
Further inquiries divulged
it was the birds
that caused him fear.
“They’re just too loud”.
You should have seen, should have heard.
Last Fourth of July a rocket went off
just way too close to his ears.
Bath time is a major ordeal
It takes two adults to wash his hair.
His screaming and squealing are deafening
bouncing off the tiles of the tub.
He understands well how things should work.
But when an impulse takes him,
All semblance of common sense falls away.
all civilized pretenses shed.
He’s a runner, you see, when you open the door.
Pretty much any door.
This can be a problem.
Thank God he doesn’t have much stamina
so he stops to hide
But, he is what he is, this boy of mine.
And I love him, ah yes, I do.
In many ways similar, He and I.
Both odd little units, it seems.
And yet, his mind works ways
I can’t possibly understand.
He has Mighty and Vivid Dreams, my boy,
and he tells me about them sometimes.
“There are stories – in my eyes”.
“They get there
when I sleep.
when I’m not.”
I appreciate this poem that is so thoughtfully penned by father and writer John Barnes. John Barnes lives in Portland Oregon with his wife and their autistic son. Please enjoy more of John’s writing at his blog.