Autistic Savants: Music, Math, Memory, Poetry
I carry music folded in my chest
Like winged light sleeping in a sheltered place,
A single sound can wake a thousand stars
And every silence holds a special place.
I speak in numbers—clean and luminous—
Where sums fall into order like the tide,
The calm, exact obedience of truth
That never falters, never shifts aside.
I keep the past as if it were still warm,
Each hour preserved like petals pressed in glass;
No moment truly dies within my mind,
The way it does for those who let things pass.
And some are born with language in the blood,
I hear the ache behind the spoken word,
I shape the unsayable into breath,
And give a voice to all we never heard.
The world calls this my miracle of the mind,
Yet little knows the cost of seeing so—
To feel too much, to carry too much light,
To stand where deeper currents always flow.
I do not seek the praise of crowded rooms,
My gift unfolds in solitude and flame;
The work itself becomes a quiet prayer,
The truth I serve forgetting about fame.
Through music’s fire, through memory’s long ache,
Through measured stars of mathematics spun,
Through poetry that binds my broken speech,
My scattered fragments gather into one.
And what I give is not just skill or proof,
But ways of seeing I had never known—
I widen what it means to be alive,
And make the human condition my own.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
