• brian_francis 6w

    The Spectrum

    by Brian Francis

    They refer to him by his condition
    As they explain why he acted out
    They somehow seem to miss the boy
    Struggling to adapt to their expectations
    He adjusts slow, like wading through syrup
    Every bit a struggle every second a worry
    He has never been comfortable with them
    Too many voices and interactions to absorb
    I have watched it happen too many times
    The shifting and discomfort obvious
    Glancing about looking for some sign to guide him
    Anxiety mounts within; the coil wound tight
    That is when I embrace him and hold him
    That is when he smiles and me
    With love shining in his eyes he melts into me

    They do not touch in the school it is too dangerous
    So, the coil rebounds; it is simple physics after-all
    For every frustration, there is not always an equal action
    They do not touch; well some do and thanks for them!
    They like to reprimand and punish the square pegs
    Like they can elect to be round if they choose
    They want to grind down the corners correct his form
    He so wants an education and friends, yes friends
    He makes his friends just fine for a change it seems
    Yet the concept of maintaining a friendship escapes him
    He has grown so much struggling every day – growing

    Thankfully, some parents cannot understand the pain
    The pain of watching the square peg struggling into that hole
    Watching as they try to whittle his perceived quirks away
    I hate round holes they haunt me every day thinking of him
    Worrying for him and fearing for him tearing for him

    He tells me about the pain and sadness that assaults him
    How he doesn’t think he wants to go there anymore
    We did home school and Mom exhausted herself teaching
    But he wanted to be like all the other kids – normal
    I cry inside when I listen to his suffering exposed
    When I hear the regret in his voice as he explains his feelings
    My coil tightens and I struggle to contain myself
    Oh, how I want to defend him, repair the damaged corners
    Heal the hidden wounds and scorched edges
    He sees it in me and he stops and smiles a sad smile
    Then he embraces me and he heals my wounded soul
    He is my hero he is my boy he is my purpose he is my joy

    Copyright © 2020 Brian Francis