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Three Poems
by Darren Stein Reading the Signs As we drive down Old South Head Road my daughter reads out the signs: No Stopping No Stopping No Parking No Stopping Temporary Happiness Bar and Grill Clearway (Saturday-Sunday) Children Crossing No U-Turn Caution – Sharp Turns Disabled Parking No Stopping Yield Yield Yield Yield Shady Acres Retirement Home Yield Road Ends Stop. Autism – Level 1 The diagnosis comes as no surprise; His behaviour similar to many of the students I have taught on the lighter side of the spectrum. Still, the confirmation bears an unexpected heaviness; My little boy hiding beneath his hoody; his breakdowns in the cacophony of chaos, noise or crowds; Those funny sounds and pulled faces at strangers who say hello. It doesn’t change anything; At home in the safety of familiarity, with his grandparents and those he loves, he is a bright and happy child; His artistic talents shining through along with a receptive and perceptive sense of humour. His teachers are understanding; much of the support already in place, Yet, you can see his struggle, and it breaks a parent’s heart, and you ask yourself if you’re to blame? Feeling limp I have a little patch that’s supposed to make me a man. Well, an exaggeration perhaps. I was born with the right equipment, but over time my diabetes and other hormonal deficiencies have tapped my testosterone, reduced the juice. I might see it as a male menopause, a snipped masculinity, but at least I can still grow my beard, if not my self-esteem. |
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