our autism - a ballad

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A ballad from inside lives hijacked by autism.




Too many children each day, 365 days a year, fifteen years – 1,000,000 new cases of Autism (in the USA)
1,000,000 more children, since her diagnosis 
Voices silenced by Autism 
Bodies in rebellion. 

Over 130 times a day, 
fragile faith is extinguished, 
fervent hope dies, and 
lifelong dreams suffer an untimely demise. 

From the doctor, the message is clear, 
there is and will be, no help here, 

It is time to take your Autism and go home. 

“She is still small, 
Can cause hardly any damage at all; 
Enjoy her for a little while more. 
For when she’s grown, 
You’ll have to place her in an institutional home

She’ll neither speak nor develop properly at all. 

Don’t fear, though, her life will be long – 
She will certainly be around after you have gone.” 

Her short life is littered with diagnosis’ 
From every form of medical degree... 
Neurologists, Developmental Pediatrics, Geneticists, Internists, Mitochondrial Specialists, Endocrinologists, Osteopaths, Optometrists, Audiologists, GI docs, and more... 

Have all led you to this very last door. 

Words CAN hurt; but not this child. 

Since a "Well-visit" at fourteen weeks, 
She’s been oblivious and incredibly wild. 
Her inner demons won’t let her eat or sleep, 
They demand that she run, bang her head, and shriek. 

She begs for milk, just not with words. 
Hugging the refrigerator 

But not her own mother 

Unless she makes it, she does not like noise. 
Absolutely, always, must carry two toys, 
One to a hand, even more if she can. 

Desire to hold the full set burns in her core. 

In a flash, toys hit the floor, 
little Houdini spies the door. 
Running from home, blindly, without fear 
Darting into traffic, a sprinter without peer. 

Sometimes, though, she sits, perfectly still. 
And stares.
At her hands; 
in front of her eyes. 

A mime, trapped inside her beautiful long-lashed shell 
her essential self has gone from view 

Rages are frequent now, too 
Cranky Hours are here to stay.

Walk and rock and do not stop. 
Do the airplane, the jiggle, the romp, 

Do not sit down, do not desist. 
The shrieking has surely put you off your neighbors’ guest list 

They ask about the stench permeating the air 
Despite closed windows and doors. 
Is it indelicate 
to describe 
what emerges ten times a day, 
Leaving her bottom raised, red and bleeding? 

Neighbors, friends and relatives cannot fathom 
how a mommy feels at the bottom 

Of Autism’s abyss. 

Physically exhausted, emotionally devastated, spiritually bereft, 
Starving for a plate of friendship, but nobody left. 

Wondering - 

What will become of her if I die? 

If I Get Hit By a Bus, by Liz Parker 

A short eleven page, single spaced essay 
On how to make it through the day 
When Autism directs the play 
Of moment to moment life with a child 
who is not there. 

Desperation’s spiral dead-ended at the junction of logic and reason 

Allopathic doctors screamed "treason," 


Changing her diet 

Changed our world. 


The little girl who only banged toys 


And looked 

Bringing her mommy incredible joy. 

It was impossible, certainly implausible. 

About this moment, and all that came after, 
mainstream doctors still warn of disaster; 

How “unproven methods” put our children in danger 
Only administering off-label drugs to these innocents quells their anger. 

Turning a blind eye to the poisons they inject 
32 times in a baby’s first 24 months; 

Neurotoxic cocktails of mercury and aluminum 
Formaldehyde, antifreeze components, carcinogenic antibiotics, and MSG 

Do you know the damage done by rogue virus’ like SV(40)? 

DNA from chickens, cows, monkeys, and mice 
Are becoming part of us and this isn’t nice 
Despite the damage inflicted through medical “marvel,” 
Our daughter’s mysterious condition had begun to unravel. 

Suddenly, she acted with thought and intention, 
Her sentence to Autism now hung in suspension. 

Who could have known that with a whim, 
Our daughter’s future would suddenly begin? 

From that moment to this 
Has not always been bliss.

But the road to recovery rarely is. 

Through gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free and less 
She is championing her own wishes and emerging from the mess. 

Organic and clean are her water and food 
Leading to her much improved mood. 

Banished are her Cranky Hours. 

She zoomed through learning to build towers, 

She found her voice and learned to use it 
To make her own choices, be they clothes, food, or music. 

In learning to speak, she has learned how to play, 
to negotiate a win, and sit and learn all day. 

This smallest of warriors has not had it easy;

She works harder than any child should have to -

Seven hours of school, 

Intensive therapies take five more. 

While most children play, she is glued to the tour 
Of math and language, reading and more, 

Of social skills, and self-care drills, 
Of language development, self-feeding, and learning to take pills.

She visits the stores to learn to count money, 
to learn to read labels, and that 
Running through traffic is not funny .

She practices, over and over, her name 
phone number, area code, zip, and address 

Her brain's been damaged, it's really a mess. 

It runs too hot and too cold - 
Causing it to forget, far more than it holds. 

Unfortunately, our daughter will always be autistic.

But in our hopes, dreams, and prayers, our fondist wish - 
Autism will not hold her prisoner in her parents’ home or an institution. 

Her brain and body are learning to be elastic
Maybe she will achieve a Recovery Fantastik... 

At liberty in the "mainstream" world, may she discover purpose, peace, joy, and love. 

Too many children each day, 365 days a year, fifteen years – 1,000,000 new cases of Autism (in the USA).

1,000,000 more children, since her diagnosis. 

Voices silenced by Autism. 

Bodies in rebellion. 



Submitted: April 03, 2016

© Copyright 2023 LizP. All rights reserved.

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Powerful poetry. Click on the highlighted lines for more comments.

Mon, April 4th, 2016 3:39am

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