Been thinking on the word ‘value’. I don’t say all neurotypicals hold to shallow definitions or that all autists are untouched by the world, but, as I unpack and rebuild myself in light of my autism and get to know others doing the same, I can’t help but note so many of us seem to be able to think deeper and value different things…

Value.

A thought I carried with longing

But never felt I deserved,

No matter the things I did,

Or the words I penned.

Though I had the truth somewhere inside,

The world wanted me convinced it was

But one definition-

Wealth and power and popularity.

Things this scrabbling existence of mine

Never seemed to possess.

Things that were the “shoulds”

And “if only I woulds”,

But nothing-when looked at deep down-

I even really wanted, were I to confess.

For ‘value’, according to most

Was none but the surface of things.

A glittery prize that only brings

Pride for but a moment

In time.

But, yet, if you did not have it at all,

You were less than the pebbles under

People’s shoes.

None that had any worth but to damage and bruise.

Took me so long to truly see

The deceptive stamp they placed

On me.

That the value did not exist in the status

My words could gain,

But, rather, the value

Was found nestled unshaken within the refrain.

And my truth was lovelier and brighter and wider than ever before,

Something to behold in this autist heart

Forevermore.

Advertisements