The Rocking Chair
Rocking Chair
(The Autistic Child)
Born with walls constructed in her mind,
She keeps the world and all its threat at bay,
Inside her rocking chair day after day,
A month, a year, an hour, no sense of time
Just rocking, rocking all her life away.
Christmas comes and presents pile around
Her chair; she sees the paper, shining, colors bright;
She reaches for the red, the blue, the white.
She revels in the crumpling paper sound--
Just rocking, rocking in her endless night.
The family gathers for the festive meal,
She will not leave her chair, her treasured place,
The never-ceasing motion of her private race.
She’s rocking in her solitary reel,
An empty stare on her unchanging face.
But what is this, her sister’s gentle hand
A soft, accepted touch , a simple smile,
“I want to sit with you a little while”--
Contact made without seeming to demand
They rock together—a stationary mile.
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