I wish I felt strong

I know that I am
I haven't thrown myself to the mercy of gravity
I haven't given myself to the laws of anatomy

I haven't given up
But I can't say I feel very alive

I am breathing
And sometimes even moving
But I can't say I feel very alive

I can't say I feel alive at all

I want to write about how she stole the moon
And hid it behind the sun

I want to write about friendships
That have only just begun

The immense creativity
That's held inside of me

I want to let it out

But the burden of living
Even though it's only breathing
And sometimes even moving
Makes it hard to turn myself to writing

I want to let it out

let
                                                        it
                                                                                                                 out

Baby Panda
You called me
A *****-*****
When you woke
And I smiled
In response

Baby Panda
When eating
Fruity pebbles
With almond milk
You croaked like
A frog, croak
Over 20 times
And got up
To spit in the sink
Excessive saliva
In between
Each bite
I asked you why
You croak
wha?
I smiled
And say
Never mind

Baby Panda
You ran to me
Sobbing as if
The world was ending
My socks!!!
No more clean
****, I forgot
To dry them
You pace
Uncomfortable
As you're forced
To go barefoot
Feet ****
For longer
Than an hour

Baby Panda
I return to
You're stash
Of a room
And picking up
Your pajamas
I smell an
Accident
Of both sorts
Soiling your
Clothes
sorry
Red faced you enter
I smile and
Remind you
To let me know
Next time
And not to
Throw it on the
Wooden floor

Baby Panda
Socks on smooth
Shoes tied with
Quadrupled knots
You head to your
Room, radio blasting
Some radio talk
Station about comedy
Until 8:21 rolls around
And you run
Like a bullet
To the bus outside
Our house
I smile as you yell
BUS IS HERE
No matter what room
I'm in

Baby Panda
I worry for you
The second you walk
Out the door
Because you have such
Big, terrifying emotions
Yet a small filter
On your words, thoughts
Of your own body
Despite the fact
That you're turning
Into a real teen
Before the summers end

Baby Panda
I wish I could help
In ways I cannot
I can't read your mind
Though you think
I should
Know how by now
I can't make socks magically
Not hurt, or have people
Not get ******
When you randomly shout
Profanities
When your last conversation
Was regarding food
And I can't
Stop the madness that
Overtakes your body
Every time you get ill
Physically, mentally


But Baby Panda
I love you now
And always will

Back in my teenage college years
I was told about “Autistic kids”
Who lived in worlds of their own,
Seeing things through weird and wonderful specs
In social isolation,
Frightening in its completeness.

At sixty six I since have learned about many
Of their “traits”:
Their obsessions, inflexible routines and
Panic
At all change.
Their inability to read
Emotions or social cues
Or innuendos
Or irony.

I have worked with those with Aspergers,
Colleagues, friends and clients –
Indeed with people all over
The Autistic Spectrum.

And the main thing I have learned
In all these years
Is that in my own way…
I am one of them.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\10\2018.