Accommodation’s refuge denied,
Life’s magnitude, unfiltered,
assails initially defenseless mind –
Even somnolent infancy wailed
at waking perception of
clothing’s continual contact:
each hair, each lively dermal neuron
unremittingly reporting
dry-wet, warm-cold, still-movement,
constriction-freedom, pressure-texture,
seams-snaps, soft-hard.
Oh, craved reprieve of focused attention!
To close eyes and silent pendulum Be!
Tranquility of unsurprise,
to ever know next trajectory
once swing seat reaches apex!
Or lying still beneath, fill mind
with slowly circling ceiling fan.
Later, to stand close to TV, to rewind,
repetitiously replay favorite scenes,
proximity filling ever-dilated pupils’
field of view and uncapped ears
with transitory tool of suppression –
burying input of color, shape, size and texture
of each surrounding toy, book, sock, picture;
cushion, blanket, light switch, window, door;
hum of heater, squeak of dryer, ticking clock and
fluorescent buzz.
To focus on beloved dialogue, always same!
Assurance, security as speak
Sir Topham Hat’s commendation
with perfect diction, cadence and inflection
of echolalia.
Thus, handfuls of words now sit
upon my tongue,
signifying nothing –
beads of sound strung
in a pattern relevant only
to Thomas the Tank Engine.
Older, I invoke the goddess of Hyperfocus
to override limitless input,
but her incense is energy,
she slips away when I am tired
and need her most!
Meltdown at the grocery –
thousands of individual items,
designedly eye-catching;
smells of bakery, samples, deli bar;
floor tiles sprinkled with random color flecks,
overhead music and announcements,
clusters of shadows cast by lighting arrays;
dozens of strangers, noisy and fragranced;
my feet are tired, my shirt tag itches my neck,
brother is pressed against my leg
in the cold, hard, shiny silver cart
with one wobbling wheel—
and finally I can stand barrage no longer –
cannot sip a child’s tentative taste of input
from the fire hose
opened on my quailing senses
and I shriek in protest!
Mind striving to disgorge
excruciating overage,
your soothing words
pebbles tossed into an
overwhelming avalanche.
We go Home!
Solitary
in blessed Time Out,
once screaming spends itself,
perhaps I’ll find
the sensory quietude of sleep,
the solace of rocking,
or attempt the soothing “release and reset”
of self-administered shock-therapy
through head-banging.
Author notes
accommodation: the ability to adapt to stimuli, screening out or “walling off” irrelevant or continual input from consciousness; i.e., the conscious awareness of change of temperatures and direction of airflow in your nose as you breathe, the sensation of clothing in constant contact with your skin, etc.
echolalia: the repetition or echoing of previously heard words or phrases
I have three relatives with diagnosed autism, falling in different ranges on the spectrum.
A contest entry
- ~Autism - Seeing The World Differently~ by Fug-azi.
1600 points, ended August 1, 2008, 4 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - AUTISM by HatedLoveDieingRose.
430 points, ended April 23, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
This poem is AMAZING!! very very good writing, i am speechless.. good job!
-
Brilliant piece!
Later, to stand close to TV, to rewind,
repetitiously replay favorite scenes,
proximity filling ever-dilated pupils’
I care for an autistic child at times and this part really hit home. You're amazing! It takes a special person to understand and relate well to special autistic individuals. They're truly wonderful people. -
This is quite a work of art and compassion! I do not have any personal experience with children with autism, but from what I do know this sounds like the voice of one who thoroughly understands and lives it. Your poem needs to be read again (and again) to get all of its many nuances. Excellent work and congrats on the silver.
-
This is amazing, the experience is so well described it feels like an empathetic immersion, conveying so much understanding. A powerful, excellent write!
-
"repetitiously replay favorite scenes"...
so poetically put, the mimicing that replaces
actual communication. This stanza really reached me:
"Older, I invoke the goddess of Hyperfocus
to override limitless input,
but her incense is energy,
she slips away when I am tired
and need her most!"
as an autistic adult. I'm quite aware now that when
I get tired or exhaust myself, that is when I can
no longer rein-in the emotion. The rocking too is mentioned here, something I did constantly. And then there was the pulling out of hair to "tickle" the nose each night. These sensory issues also include ones that must be felt. By the way, my youngest son
does the same only he uses blanket fibers instead of
pulling out his hair (thank goodness!)!
You touch on so much here and yet bring it out in such a way as can easily be digested even by those that are unfamiliar with any of these behaviors or
feelings. Now, I realize you are even more than
the brilliant light I already saw. Thank-you. Blue
-
-
It is so very gratifying to have your feedback! I hope it is easily digestable, but fear the length will deter many readers. Thank you, Blue, for your time in reading this through, and your lovely comment!
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
