This one is still a little rough….
Ode to an Ark
My son walks a path both familiar and foreign.
I lay out the golden stones then watch him vanish.
Gone in a yawning, swampy place, dark with peril.
Noah builds an ark.
And two by two by four by four by five by five by OCD by Asperger’s by ADHD by GHD by genius IQ,
it lifts my son with love.
That love that is a balm for the loneliness of oddness, the pain of childhood’s shifting loyalties, that tidal swell that lifts me too.
And no one needs a mushroom boat to reach this island where
teen love says
you’re like normal people when they’re on drugs
and typico neuro
mushroom boats alight to sit on hotel floors watching Pee Wee Herman, asking Are you seeing what I’m seeing?
It’s where we live.
With talking trees and brownies no one else can see.
And I can spy a child from where I stand,
more sensible than most.
She is not alone, and
also built this ark.
This ark of families, of Pauls, of summer’s riding a swelling
wave of love that lifts us from the swamp,
that steadies my son’s journey,
that steers us to the Vast Blue Ocean –
It’s big enough a place for
all of us to