What do you dream about sweet silent boy?
The nights you rise up out of your bed and wander our dusty floors? Are you looking for something you cherished for a moment in that mysterious place between the consciousness of dream and the awareness of waking?
Are you on an enchanted night walk floating through a maze of fireflies and bubbles unaware of the world that holds you back?
Could you be lost navigating the spooky hallway forest, familiar and friendly when the path is lit by the morning sun?
What do you dream about sweet boy?
Those nights your shriek summons me like the siren’s song to find you swimming in your twisted sheets? My soft words are not your anchor. You push me away from the helm with your kicks and punches as if resisting being dragged to the bottom of the sea by the mighty whale you have have come to exact revenge.
How do I teach you to breathe when you emerge from the black water instead of screaming?
You wake gasping for air.
What do you dream about sweet boy?
When you sit bolt upright rubbing the glitter of sleep deeper into your eyes with the fists that once fit in the palm of my hand? You rise with a dreamy smile that does not release either of us until you snuggle in as close as you can. It is how you summon the halcyon to create the calm winds that smooth the waves.
You drift safely on your back.
Do you know you dream sweet boy?
Can you separate day from night? Do your lost words in the light morph into the demons in the dark who suck the words from your cherub lips?
Do nocturnal fantastic birds of flight carry you away and release you from your forced secrets of the day? Are those birds the thing with feathers? Do they chirp the same songs they sing to me?
Do you not dream at all sweet boy?
Perhaps instead you play with angels who speak your native tongue. You drift off to the place where I am not allowed to go with you. You run freely through the fields of joyous detail or you ramble in teary despair in the wings of the worldless knowing you are understood and safe.
Because no matter the circumstance of night, in the morning you wake wide eyed and blinking and peaceful.
Day 4 2016: D is for Diagnosis
Running through Water 
So heartbreaking and beauty
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Oh……. “tears”. That was wonderful and painful all at the same time.
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Thank you. I haven’t “written” in a long time. This was hard to write. Our sweet boys–they deserve sweet dreams
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They do, they do!
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Your writing is soo beautiful, you ought to try and publish!! Moms have WAYYYY more experience and expertise than most doctors, OT’s, and speech therapists combined.. The support and resources that are shared in your village are INVALUABLE. I’m passionate about supporting these networks myself.
I am so touched by your ability to share so eloquently but also I am touched that throughout your experience you have followed your light and your curiosity about A2 ‘s experience. Wanting you to know my heart is with you.
I love that my curiosity surrounds me and leads me further and further into my work with families, children, and adults with autism. (I’m in between an NT and A btw)
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Thank you for your kind words. This is the first poetry I have written in almost 25 years! What can I say, I have an amazing muse:-)
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Well it’s some one the finest I’ve read in almost 25- amazing to see what springs forth & what came first the chicken or the egg?? KEEP WRITING. Your poetry is inspiring beyond words.
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