Here's the last of them.
Reflecting
And pepperoni.
This is what echolalia gets me.
Not once have I been misunderstood.
I see no reason to change.
Not when echolalia gets me pickles.
Reflecting
What can I reflect on,
What should I think about?
Do I think on impairment?
Do I think on a label now one year old?
Do I reflect on the fear I've been told I must feel?
On the things I've been told I can't do?
No.
I
reflect on understanding what has changed and what has not.
I
reflect on a world that can not comprehend "Autistic" as a
word to claim.
I
reflect on a world not made for me.
I
reflect on how to remake the world to fit us, we who do not fit
today.
Positivity
I am positive.
I am positive that this is ausome.
I am positive that I am tired.
I am positive that this is worth the spoons it costs.
One day.
One day to remember the rainbows.
One day to reflect (and perhaps to refract) so I can create my own.
Echolalia Gets Me Pickles
Pickles and ice cream and olivesAnd pepperoni.
This is what echolalia gets me.
Not once have I been misunderstood.
I see no reason to change.
Not when echolalia gets me pickles.
I love that last one! I've really enjoyed all your poems, but the last one in particular is *exactly* what happens when I'm at a cafe or fast food place. Between the noise, the bewildering array of choices and the pressure to hurry up and choose, my brain just checks out and my mouth orders automatically.
ReplyDeleteFishandchipsandacupaccinoplease :)