Wait For It.....
Wait for it.....
More Posts from Hog-mage and Others
The Silence Within
Sometimes I have to force myself to smile, or speak when all I want to do is be expressionless and quiet. My natural inclination is to take everything in and process it, while remaining stoic. Sometimes it's painful to have expression.
He asked, "Are you ok?"
She trembled when he heard his voice, she wasn't expecting him, and she jumped when she heard his voice. It was all just too much. This pain, this fear, this uncertainty of it all. Was she sane? She didn't know. Broken, perhaps? Perhaps.
"Are you hurt," he asked from behind her.
With tears threatening to fall, she straightens her back as much as possible, so as not to slouch where she stood.
"I'm not," she whimpered, hating that she sounded so vulnerable. She took a long and uneven breath, and shook her head. This was difficult. "I just, time....I need some time. I just need a little time."
"It's alright," he said, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. "I'm right here."
A few moments go by, and she hears the blood rushing through her body, and she looks to the ceiling, unable to speak, but wondering, if giving up would make her existence go by smoother, as she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder.
New York City, 1975
butterflyinthewell, hello friend, I hope you get this. This is my 3rd attempt trying to post this, but every time I’m almost done writing, my screen goes blank and my whole text disappears. I want to say that I hope I didn’t offend you, and I had no intention to offend anyone. This poem when I wrote this was about the autistic boy I’ve been working with (I’m an ABA therapist and Respite care worker) who recently had a seizure (his first one) out of the blue, and I watched as his mom stared at him with such love while they were eating that it very much warmed my heart, that the image has been sticking with me for weeks, and I had to write it down.
When I wrote that his mind was in bondage and in chains, I wanted to include my own experiences teaching different autistic children on the spectrum how frustrated they get usually because if they’re completely non verbal, it must feel infuriating to them because all the words they want to say could be on the tip of their tongue, but unable to fully go over the edge to form words, but the love AND freedom is in the way they express themselves, in like you said, “flapping of the hands, laughing, spinning or jumping,” as a form of communication. And again, I hope I didn’t offend, it was not my intention. My experience with this boy has been amazing, and I know that I’m on his mind, because once when I went away for a month on vacation, and came back, he did stare at me, and sat on my lap, and I knew that I was loved and trusted. I still smile at that memory, because I love him and his whole family.
I guess, now that I think about it, it’s not much of a prison if you have loved ones around to keep you grounded, and those willing to help you out to the best of their ability, and to know that you have a whole community backing you up. Thank you, friend, for calling me out so that I can experience other peoples experiences. Again, I hope I didn’t offend you too much, it was not my intention to upset you. But this was a great learning experience in how people deal with obstacles in their lives. Thank you for also sharing part of your story.
His eyes...
she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach.
Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around.
She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes.
A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; “mom.”
His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.
I have no words. This is art and I’m here to look and admire it. I’m speechless, it’s beautiful.
Artist Luo Li Rong
Nylon hosiery
First Romance No. 17, 1950s
If anyone is looking for a terrifying non-fiction book to read I recommend Voices From Chernobyl. Svetlana Alexievich is a journalist who interviewed more than 500 eyewitnesses, including firefighters, liquidators (members of the cleanup team), politicians, physicians, physicists, and ordinary citizens, over a period of 10 years. The book explores the experiences of individuals and how the disaster affected their lives. You will read things in here that will haunt you for day. (Here’s PDF version) (Last Book Suggestion)
