You don’t see it, but some days
I drag moonlit danger behind me like a veil of milky dust
casting itself off of my crown. I balance
armies of fire on the backs of my arms and
use them for wings. I hear
the stars rubbing their legs together for the want of music
and hanging gold fiddled notes on Venus’ earlobes. They
chime, making love in the solar wind.
I strap bass lines onto my back;
wrap chain mail angels around my chest;
strap thunderclouds to the soles of my feet;
and I dance.
You wouldn’t know it,
but I have a thousand Heavens
and just as many Hells burning inside. You see
the computer mind, but not the
glass shatter heart. I sometimes wonder
if I am a transparent kachina in your line of sight, if you can
already see how much I burn; but you
always prove me wrong. You
try to unzip me, and see my eyes fleeing away from you
like startled ponies. Do you really
know me? If you did, you would know that
if I look at you too long, I might burst.
But you don’t know. And how can I tell you?
I consult the dictionary of human behavior every day.
I had to load it into my brain and make it learn
that you open doors with hello and
that you close them with goodbye. I had to learn
the mechanics of when to smile, when to laugh.
If I like you, I tear encyclopedia pages and pictures from off my walls
to give to you as gifts. And if I were to love you, I might
serenade you with music channeled from the
stereo installed into my brain that I first noticed
when I was ten.
But small talk still feels like grease on my
fingertips. And some days, I hear
my own voice rendered in Greek and wonder
when I will speak my own tongue again.
So I will speak my own dialect of
encyclopedia notes, photographs, trivia bank entries,
badly sung covers of the originals, words shaped
like arrows. There may be no smiles, no
dance of our eyes, no oil between us to make things
easier. That’s not how I work, and I am
not ashamed of this. And maybe some day, you will
see me dance.
© 2010 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
Original poem published February 23, 2010 on Raven’s Wing Poetry
Video:
Comments on: "Poem: You Don’t See It" (8)
A few years back, I wrote a poem “To Our Autistic Family – Just Keep Those Genius genes coming, baby” Not the kind of thing that would see print, but you might like to read it.
Aspie to Aspie, and poet to poet…. absolutely incredible, Nichole! Your lyrical description could not possibly depict a clearer invite into what many “don’t see.” God Bless.
Hello Jwyan:
Thank you for your comment and complement. Those who have been through an experience or who have a particular atribute are the best ones to speak to it, I think. This poem was my best attempt to capture what being an Aspie is like and convey that reality to others. I am blessed by your compliment. Hope to see you around again.
-Nicole
What a beautiful poem, thank you so much for your willingness to share it publicly! I’m the proud mother of a beautiful 3 year old girl with autism, and I have a deep desire to better understand her unique nature… parts of your poem made me think of her, and that is very meaningful to me. Thank you, Nicole!
hugs-Daleth
I LOVE the pictures in You Don’t See It. Thank you for sharing it.
Hello N: Thank you very much for watching. That was one of my first attempts at marrying art with poetry. I have many more poems that I would like to do the same for, in more extensive ways. Please stay tuned and you will see what I mean.
-Nicole
Very powerful poetry. Thank you for sharing.
This is a very fine poem. It reaches the heart, shows the reality of the condition without pleading for sympathy. I congratulate you on having both the ability to express something so intensely and with such powerful images, and on the strength to share all this with people who are strangers in body, but not in mind and soul.
Would you mind very much if I share it with some friends who are on this website:
http://occupywomen4change.freeforums.org/
I’d also like to share it with a group of Creative Writers in my local University of the Third Age.
Because I think I am probably also an Aspie; your website is giving me the permission that I’ve needed so long to admit that this is how I, too, see the world. We shall dance together, I believe.