A Different Frequency
A tale of autism
Poem
A tale of autism
As a child, I existed in fantasy,
half immersed in fleeting daydreams.
While others tapped their feet
to society’s drumbeat,
I moved to rhythms they couldn’t hear.
The everyday cacophony
overwhelmed my untrained senses.
I took refuge in corners
quiet as moonbeams,
places that didn’t attack with chaos.
Friendship’s dance felt rigid as ritual,
the rules opaque.
My shy overtures met polite confusion.
And so I withdrew to safer realms,
learning solitude’s subtle language.
I found company in constellations,
hearing wisdom whisper down starry currents.
While classmates practiced chatter,
I learned the tongues
of river and willow, stone and feather.
This bred isolation,
though I felt no lack.
I needed no participants
for my imaginings,
content in the company
of forest shadows.
As years passed,
expectations to conform
wore down my spirit
like water on rock.
I masked my true face
to appease their unease.
But still
I slip into daydreams mid-conversation,
retrace old paths others can’t see.
Behind my polished mirror
waits a dancing spirit,
dreaming to rhythms unheard.