autistic child

Dear child,
have you ever envied their graceful dance in laughter?
While you
can only sway in lonely, unknown melodies,
ignoring your name being called.

Dear child,
your heart trembles for sorrowful stories,
but you do not know how to offer a warming palm.
They say you are cold as frost,
but you cannot respond with fervor under your chest.

Dear child,
the bright lights, twinkle like eyes,
the alcohol raised in celebratory toasts,
and the rock music shining on the red stages—
do they all provoke your pounding pulse?

Dear child,
living in a world not designed for you,
wearing all kinds of painted masks,
becoming the “sick monster” in others’ eyes,
or perhaps simply another way of sensing,
another way of being.

Dear child,
have you stopped believing in tomorrow?
When you shed your armor after the revelry,
did you melt into their laughter—
or have you learned to seek opportunity in the awkwardness?