Sally's love, light, and inspiration for her beautiful poems....Dhylan
How do I spell
I have to say the first emotion I felt was Anger, I was angry that this
had happened to me,I had been so careful,
I made an appointment with my doctor, when I was barely a month along,
I took good care of myself, I ate well,
and didn't abuse my body with drugs or alchohol, or smoking.
I felt such rage at first, this was not fair,
some women neglected themselves, and didnt care for the child inside,
and their child was perfect. Why not mine?
Unbelief..... denial...........you name it, I felt it. This was not
happening to me, I would wake up in the night, and it would hit me, my
child has autism, and then I would plug my ears, trying to stop the
voices in my head, I would bury my head in the pillow, refusing to
believe this was happening to us. It took me a long time to let it sink
in, and to this day, I sometimes forget, and then the realization hits
me, and it knocks me to my knees again. It takes all my strength to get
up. But I do, because I have to, I have to be there for my child.
Of course the tears, tears of rage, panic, frustration. Gut wrenching
tears in the middle of the night, somehow it always seems worse in the
night. The house is quiet at last, and there is time to think, to
ponder, to pray. Tears though are such a relief, without their outlet, I
would have gone crazy. But, I have held them back so many times, in a
store when someone makes a cruel remark,
or a child who approaches mine, then backs off with that 'look' on his face.
I refuse to cry then, because I still have my pride, and it although it
is tattered, I cling to it like a security blanket.
Isolation, oh yes, the isolation. Friends seemed to disapear into thin
air, when they found out.
Sometimes I wanted to scream "It's not catching, " but they wouldnt hear
me, they were too busy keeping their child away from mine. The phone
stopped ringing too, and people would turn away at Church, avert their
eyes when my child had a tantrum. The isolation is the hardest
thing.......... being alone hurts. At the time in my life when I needed
friends and family the most, the pain of them looking the other way, was
indescribable. But I have found friends, people who know the path I
take, for it is their journey too. For this blessing I am so grateful.
These are the true friends, the ones who are there for me, when life is
Sadness and Solace, I have felt the sadness of knowing my child will not
be like other children, I have wept many tears for him. I have spent my
waking hours, and sleepless nights worrying about his future, who will
care for him, what kind of adult will he be? Will someone be there for
him, when I am gone? There is such pain in not knowing, there is nothing
so hard for a parent, than realizing that one day, you will not be there
to take care of your child. And knowing that this child will always need
your care. But there is Solace too, and I have felt this peace,
I have learned to accept this Autism, I cannot erase it,
nor will I embrace it. But I have come to a feeling of peace, and I go on.
Mercy and Magic, Have mercy on me, It's so hard to raise a child when
others look on, and instead of holding out a hand to help, they stand in
judgement. Don't judge me, when my child acts out, when he screams
because something has changed in his environment, he doesnt do it
purposefully, he is only reacting to his feelings. I am a good mother, I
love my child like you love yours, I want the best for him, yet I cannot
give in to him. He looks to me and I must teach him,
just as you teach your child. I may do it differently,
because my child is different. He learns in his own way,
and I have to teach him in a way that to others may seem odd, or unusual.
Magic? Oh yes, there is magic. I have seen my child blossom, I have
seen him learn, I have watched his wonder, and rejoiced in his small
steps. His smile is magic, and his heart is gold.
I did not choose this journey, but somehow it is mine, and I must see the
roses, as I walk upon the rocky pathway. I did not ask for this, but it
was given to me, and I must be strong enough to bear it. If I cannot,
then I am lost, if I give up, who will take my place?
There is enough joy, if I look for it....... it will find me.
c. Sally Meyer 1999
If God can
love the sparrow
enough to care
when it falls.
I am sure
He loves me
and my little
If He can
the lost lamb
out of the
I know He
will find me
If He can
part the sea
Then I know
When I call out
His name for help.
If I can seek
as He does.
I will not
be lost, nor
will I fear.
for, it was His
hands who made
This is His little
His lost lamb,
He trusted me
to take this little child.
To hold him, to teach
him, and to return
him safely home.
I know that
I will not
For like that sparrow
and that wandering
we are His creation
and every day
when the sun sets
over us all.
He counts us all
in His creations.
Autism is not the end of the World. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.
copyright. 1999. Sally Meyer
|The man behind
It's cold in here, the room dark
mahogany paneling, books, and diplomas.
The man behind the desk
his words will change my life forever.
There are no flowers to give me hope,
no solace here, no comforting arms,
just silence, and I wait.
For the man behind the desk. . . .
In his hands he holds a pen,
not a pen like I use, ten for a dollar
at the discount store.
His pen is gold, engraved, given to him
by an esteemed colleague, long ago.
The clock ticks behind him, as he studies
the papers, squiggles, and notations
that he put down, during this long hour.
My son's cries echo in the hallway,
and I want to run to him, scoop him up
take him from here, deliver him from his fate.
But I sit and wait, for that word, I need that word,
from his lips, my own are not enough,
He doesnt know it, but I know already,
he is reluctant to say it, to speak that word,
for fear he will break my heart,
my heart was broken long before I carried my son
in here, to speak to this man, who taps his pen,
and ruminates and hesitates to speak.
I have stayed awake endless nights,
sitting in a chair, reading by lamplight
through books and books, turning pages
splotched with tears, I understand, I know
what this man behind the desk will say.
He is a fool to think I would come here unprepared,
I can tell him all he wants to know, but I must go to him
for he is a doctor, and he has studied,
so I, a mother must put my son, in his care,
look to him for that which I already have wept over,
in dark of night, looking through the window at the moon,
wondering why, and how? my tears have
blended with the falling rain, and grief has been hard won.
But now he speaks, and the silence surrounds the room
I hear a plaintive cry in the hallway, and ignoring it
I listen, and hearing that word
I smile, and shaking the hand of the man behind the desk
I walk out of the mahogany torture chamber,
scoop up my child, and walk away.
I will not cry here, no, rather I will wait
until the night comes, and sitting in my chair in the lamplight
I will hold my child, as he sleeps, caress him with my tears,
and begin the journey, the one I started a year ago.
c. Sally Meyer 1999
While he is sleeping
Sally Meyer's Poems page four