Autistic Alone
I always thought I was a lotus in a pond,
The ugly duckling of a swan,
I had a life, a dream of my own,
In my silence happy and withdrawn.
My parents cried when I sat alone,
Hours staring at a book or garden full blown,
Clapped in rain, opened windows in foul weather,
Repeated words of whisperings of others.
Howled like a dog or when thunders roared,
Threw tantrums for nothing but seldom respond.
I suffered from ‘Autism’ in medical term,
My parent fear just got confirmed.
Like any disease I could be treated,
A specialist consultant therapy needed.
‘Echolalia’-is a term for language dysfunction,
I was confined to a room with designer decoration.
I joined a school for my special needs,
There were pure blossoms without any weeds.
Every cloud had a mysterious form,
Who stole voices from the storm.
My daydreams and fantasies new or old,
Delusions and hallucinations turned to gold.
Jyotirmaya Thakur
Writer
UK
