Member-only story
a poem of dis-connection
Solitary Confinement
Some prisons have no walls
Looking out, looking in—
— I see stem missing
bloom, fruit absent seed,
trees standing: rootless
Hands close enough to feel
movement-breeze but never
touching; lips kissing only air, feet
shod in ponderous boots: toes
longing to curl in earth
Although outwardly free,
within is solitary confinement —
— a small darkened cell, a bathroom
bucket, a food tray slid
under the wee-windowed door
Sailor lost at sea, wanderer
off the path in forest-maze, young
girl swings alone at school,
abandoned dog closed in his cage
My dis-connect, my un-connection—
feels as each of those and more, like
pages in a book, each page reading
always the same story—
— in always differing words.
Writer’s notes: How to form into words, even poem-words, the struggle, often inability, to connect with other people? The longing for connection remains, like hunger never sated. This autism in me, that formed and forms me, dis-connects me from connection. Some autistics lack verbal speech; I lack the natural ability to find meaningful relationship. Still I try, still I have hope. Still I try to learn the ways of this difficult art.
