My Autistic Son
by Karen Jones
They ask me” what is wrong with him” they ask me “what’s not right”
Long blond hair and big blue eyes they fail to see my plight.
“They all do that” I hear them say “They all have little quirks”
But not far beneath those smiling teeth the disability lurks.
He can be a little boisterous; he can be a little rough,
Unaware of other’s cares “but that’s what makes boys tough”.
He doesn’t know how to play with them or understand how they talk,
“He’s a healthy, happy child; he can run, he can walk”.
“He doesn’t look any different; he’s the same as mine” they say,
If only they could live my life for just one hour of the day.
He sees the world differently they’d see he doesn’t know,
The simple things in life, like it’s polite to say hello.
There are ways of saying and doing things that come so naturally,
But for my dear son this doesn’t happen all that easily.
He can’t read body language and struggles with social cues,
He finds it hard to interact and if he upsets someone to him it’s news.
Our lives are routine and we use cues to get through the day,
“But we’re all like this” (ahhh, ignorant bliss) is what the others say.
I wonder how he copes even though he is so very young,
It’s sad to see a child you love so anxious before life has really begun.
So I will try my best to teach him so that it becomes so habitually,
To understand the world outside his own, despite his disability.
But I will always worry how he will handle life in years to come,
And who will look out for my dear sweet boy when his father and I are gone.
But wait… why am I grumbling; why am I so sad?
I have the love of one sweet boy, is that really all that bad?