Walking home in the inexplicable sunshine of late February…
Breathing in and out after forced “peopling”.
Look to the old brick church on the corner,
Awaiting its bells to pour out the hour melodiously.
My treat, my highlight of this short but arduous journey I must take…
It begins to peal and I delight…
But only a moment.
As four or five big trucks barrel through,
Belching exhaust and thunder,
Drowning out the sweetness of the song.
I strain my ear to recapture a sliver of peace,
But it’s lost in the rumble of these streets.
I don’t break down, but, I do quicken my pace to home.
And, on the way, I begin to think…yes, autism has always been here.
But, maybe when the world was quieter it was easier to survive it.
We weren’t noticed and, though neglect can be an awful curse,
Perhaps it could also be a blessing in disguise…
Now, everything is a mad hurry and much noise,
smothering all the beautiful songs
And trampling the gentler souls,
Leaving us fewer places of retreat…

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