POETRY

Lost

Never again found

Lost to the meaning of words lost in blissful ignorance. He can hear grass growing spending his days floating between this world and another in the state of constant wonder.

Nurtured by caressing arms, carried like a water drop on the palm with love that holds one name — Mama.

“Mama” the first word spoken, “Mama” on a death bed broken

Never again the same shine of the sun, never a warm smile, and understanding eyes. He wasn’t born for this world or the other he was an orphan looking for a mother —

The one who would feel the collision of sensation within him, the one who would wipe away tears, and help him overcome fears.

He didn’t see the world as other did he felt all the ripples in-between: the sparkles and twitches, colours and cracks, pieces of the puzzle left behind.

For him the world had a different shape, exquisite taste, and unique shine that would make a blind man see the light.

Never so lost to the realities grasped, the reason could never find the path to his heart. A cuddle and a smile, warm cocoa with cream were the things that always put him to sleep.

“Mama” the last word spoken, “Mama” on the death bed broken.

~ Iva

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Note about the poem:

At my work I meet children with neurological damage, increasingly in the last few years. With very small children doctors are reluctant to give any diagnoses, and put most of it under the communication disorder. As children get older things become more clearer but not many parents are accepting the fact that their child is different, and will need assistance, possibly throughout all his life.

When I got pregnant at the very edge of my thirties with my third child I was worried about my child developing neurological damage. I did all the imaginable non-invasive tests to exclude genetic anomalies, but the possibility still remained. It was a statistical fact. It was stressful living from one doctors appointment to another. I couldn’t not wonder what my life would be like if my baby had autism. How would I deal with it? If my child wasn't capable to take care of him self in life, what would happen to him after his father and I died?

I see these children. I take care of them. I know they will never fit in. I know that at some point they will be left alone. These are hard facts in a cruel world, and they hurt.

~°~