A Mother's Wish

From the perspective of a mother with an autistic daughter.

At three years old, quiet was typical - typical resulting in two years 

Of wailing and tears and why? Why can’t I help you?

 

At six, she was too much herself for any of them to understand. 

I thanked a God I no longer hear for her beautiful ignorance. 

 

At ten, whispers, stares, words with sharp edges - cotton t-shirts torn by ignorance. 

They are not the same breed; cruelty was never in her vocabulary.

 

At fourteen, we moved again, fourth time’s the charm. 

Cradled by padded metal, twisting, rocking back and forth, back and forth 

Silence to screams. 

 

My, not-so-little, little girl turns sixteen tomorrow. 

There will be no piñata or surprise, no gathering of friends. 

But I made her a cake so she can make her own wish 

While I pray once more: May tomorrow be the day she finds her voice. 

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

I cannot imagine the pain that stands behind this one.