The Scream is Silent

Last WEP I typed up a very personal piece and at the last minute decided not to participate. I had a lot going on and sharing my insides did not feel comfortable. For whatever reason, the same thing is still on my mind. Of course, it is. It is life! I am still not ready to share the other piece, but I could not miss out again just because I was too afraid. After all, this is the time of year to face one's fears.

So here is a poem I wrote. It touches on the same subject. Maybe you will feel the emotion and maybe you will understand my words before I explain them. (And maybe it has been too long since I wrote poetry and I have no idea what I'm doing) ;) 

To see other entries in this month's WEP, click the badge above. Read them all, you will be glad you did!

"The Scream is Silent"

Scream.

Why did he do that?

What is his problem?
What is wrong with him?

Haven't you taught him?

Why do you do that?
Why can’t you listen?
Focus, look at me?
Look at me.
Why did you…
Look at me.
What happened?
Tell me what happened.
Look at me.
That doesn’t make sense.
What did you do?

Look at that!
I can’t believe he is so smart.
You’re such a great mom.
How did he learn that?
Where did he learn that?

Awesome job, you did great.
I love what you did.
That looks so nice.
Fantastic work, kiddo.

But not that.
Why does he do that?
Oh, that’s why.

Anger
Pushing
Spitting
Kicking
Name-calling
Screaming

Drawing
Painting
Sewing
Building
Designing
Creating

Sighing, not screaming.
Masking.
The scream is silent.

WC:  127 words

Autism Acceptance because Awareness is not enough. 

Beltane Camping with Hermes

Rain, rain, torrents of rain

    trickster tricking, soaking tents through,

    forgot extra shirts, everything floating,

    all is dripping, pan is burning,

    nothing's cooking, people arriving,

    allergies speaking - coconuts, bananas...

    Plans changing, gods laughing,

    crows waiting, cranes flying,

    fire's dying.

More oil, more wind, more straw,

    breath of fire, blow and glow,

    children running, mothers eating,

    clouds hanging, spirits calling,

The May Knot, we may not,

    we did.

Primal Mom

What is it about the motion of a toddler's cheeks and the adorable chewing sounds they make when they eat? I get such joy out of watching that little jaw bounce up and down, and those little lips pucker to keep the food in. She so carefully brushes the hair out of her face with her palm and tilts her head left and right to shift it into place. Those eyes could melt steel if they tried hard enough. They get wider and wider as she gets ready to smile, and those little teeth peek through at just the right moment. When she takes a sip there is that inevitable sigh at the end, as if she just got that first crisp flavor of a new bottle of wine. Then with crumbs on her cheeks she pushes her little hands together, fingers pointing in, and says, "More?" I love how it always sounds like a question. And if you don't respond right away, she tilts her head and says it more slowly, trying to make sure she was clear. When another treat is presented, the eyes widen once more and her grin pushes aside those impossible cheeks.

What clever primal adaptations make these things so valuable to us? How ingenious to make it a timeless joy for us to watch our little ones fill their bellies. It is such a wondrous miracle that I can get pleasure from watching her take food. Even though it will land in large portions on every surface within a ten foot radius. Even though the cat will later choke on a chunk I missed, that is if I even had the time to clean it up. Even though she goes through days of starvation when I clearly haven't made enough food since those two pieces of cheese toast and two bowls of yogurt were obviously just a snack. Even though she will refuse to eat for three days after since she no longer likes that. Oh primal instinct, you clever little devil. You make the most difficult experience in my life be peppered with little sprinkles of joy that I will never forget.

Stars and Moon

Did you know that Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star was written by a woman? Jane Taylor was a novelist and poet and she is believed to be the author of The Star in an 1806 publication called Rhymes for the Nursery. Today we know it by its new name. When my son was little I was delighted to learn, through the expertise of Pete the Cat, that there were many more verses than I knew. It is such a beautiful poem and I began to sing it to him with the "missing" parts. I encourage you to read the poem in its entirety. 

When I read the poem I felt Taylor's sense of awe and admiration for one of our greatest natural features, our stars. It almost sounds like a Thank You note written to the stars. It was this that inspired me to write my own poem to show my thanks for another celestial beauty, our moon. 

Round and smooth

You shine on me

You are not always here to see.

Your path across