I just listened to a talk about Autism Spectrum Disorders. The speaker shared a poem by one of his patients, a teenager with ASD, who wants to be a writer. It’s remarkable. (This is copied exactly as he wrote it.)
Devin Teichert
Song of Myself
December 16, 2008
Were They but There at Night
There is a bolder field where every stone
Is a glazed, glittering gem, like stars fallen from the sky
All except one, a plain grey rock alone in the center
Feeling excluded and shunned
People come, tourists, painters, photographers, collectors
To view each shining bolder, a pleasure to the beholder
Ooh! Ahh! Look at this one! Come quick!
Pockets bulge with fragments and paint cans run dry
But the grey rock remains ignored
An ugly blotch on a sweeping mural
The sun sets, everyone leaves
And they miss the centerpiece of the field
For when night falls, the grey rock in the center
It glows in the dark