This isn’t going to be the final version of this poem. I thought of it in the shower. I don’t know where it came from, but I remember this moment very clearly. This poem is a true story, and I remember it being such a big moment for my mom.
My brother has a severe case of autism. He’s nonverbal and he can be very loud. I remember him having a particularly loud day and I asked my mom why he was so loud. She took it the wrong way and turned it into a lesson.
I don’t know how I recognized the moment she was about to have, but I let her have it anyway. I knew the moment was bigger than me and it was a moment she was waiting for. This always stuck with me, and I don’t know why. I might have written about this before, but I know I’ll revise this at some point and submit it somewhere.
Loud
I remember the first time
I grew up, pleasing my mother
who still doesn’t know,
why I asked what I did when.
Ten-year-old me asked her
why my brother who has Autism
wouldn’t stop yelling.
She was proud to answer;
I could sense it–she said
it was how he was born–
Peter was severely autistic.
I already knew that.
It wasn’t the first time we talked
about Peter being loud.
I meant to say loud today,
not in general.
I wanted to hear my TV show
without raising the volume.
My intentions were childish,
but I learned to let loved ones
have their moment, to listen.
Submissions
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Well, I like it just as is. It doesn’t feel unfinished to me.
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