Poems

Autism Awareness Poem - New

They looked at me with compassion
I hadn't a clue why,
Then they told me my son was challenged
and I began to cry.

"Your son may be Autistic, or
have some related disease."
"I've never heard of it," I said,
"Explain it to me please?"

"It occurs one in every five hundred births,
four times more often in boys.
Families of all racial and ethnic backgrounds
Regardless of stature or poise."

"Its a Lifelong neurological impairment
That affects the ability to speak,
Play or socially interact."
I felt my knees grow weak.

My husband took me in his arms
We held each other tight,
My five year old beside me asking,
"Mommy, is Stevie all right?"

We wouldn't have known there was a problem
If not for his speech delay
We thought he was just a little shy,
and preferred solitary play.

When she said, they don't know what causes it
I just wanted to die.
" My God, this isn't happening,
They can't even tell us why?"

"God is not sleeping," I said to myself
over and over again
holding fast to my faith in God
to help me endure the pain.

Clearly there needs to be research
It’s imperative we find a way
Of getting the programs funded,
If we're ever to gain some headway.`

Our children are so precious
They look to us for care
Let's show them how much we love them,
and make everyone aware.

In My Garden

I wandered through my garden
on a lovely summers day
gazing at the beauty
of the flowers in full array.

The snapdragon so colorful
the poppy red and bold
I reached to touch the sunflower
with her petals of yellow gold.

In the garden I saw the lily,
so white and ever pure
the marigold so hardy
and the petunias galore.

Yet by the garden wall
there stood, my lovely velvet rose
Her beauty more magnificent
than any that I chose.

Her colors were so delicate
her scent a pure delight
I never saw the thorns she bore
too late, I felt the bite.

I jumped back for a moment
I couldn't understand why
a flower so soft and lovely
could hurt, and make me cry.

But still her beauty captured me
and once again I tried,
but this time I was careful
not to touch the bitter side.

In the garden of the children
there are beauties everywhere
the delicate and pretty
and the ones with charm so rare.

There are those who will grow stronger
in the pleasant summer sun
there are some that fade and wither
despite love from everyone.

But the rarest of the children
are the ones who bear the thorn
the children who will struggle
from the day that they are born,

But they also bear the beauty
of the soft and gentle rose
their scent is of most bittersweet
and this is the child, I chose.

And reaching out to touch him
I felt his prickle there
but once again I stretched my hand
and found the beauty rare.

In the garden of the children
where they grow so wild and free,
I picked the one who has a price
and found the one for me.

C. 1999 Sally Meyer.