What to Say

Years ago a friend's daughter was diagnosed with autism. Being a poet, my friend wrote this poem and it was published in a local magazine. I dutifully clipped it out because that's what friends do. Years later when my daughter was diagnosed with autism I came across the poem and had a good cry--now I could more fully appreciate what my friend was feeling. Today, more than six years after the autism label was affixed to my child's forehead, I read it again and cried some more. The thing about being the parent of an autistic child is that there are always new ways to be saddened because while you're dealing with your child's issues, you're witnessing daily how their peers are developing and you can't help but envy those kids' parents. I try to remember that typical kids' issues can also be frustrating and that I would probably feel another sort of dismay if I had to deal with them, but some days my situation just seems overwhelming and it's good to have a poem like this one to help me get the crying out of the way.

What to Say
by Elizabeth Burns

so if you want to know
what it is you should say
when someone tells you
"there's something wrong
with my little girl
i thought she was fine but she isn't"
if you want to know what to say
say this:
talk to me
follow me through the snow and talk to me
walk through a mall
next to me
and when i look in a window
talk to me some more
talk to me by the carrots and celery
and talk to me when i put away
the oatmeal
and call me on the phone
when you're awake
and it's three and four and five
in the a.m. and you think
the carpet hurts you
and the words are slogging
in your throat
so muddy you need boots
for a sentence
call me call me
let me know everything
and even call again
and change the story
to the way you thought you heard it
and then the way you really heard it
when they told you
there was something
really wrong
and tell me
how cold it felt
inside your lungs
and how shattered
your hair felt
how your feet
could never get warm
because they were always
standing some place
so cold
waiting for different news
and tell me again
the news you wanted to hear
and how that wasn't it
and swear and hate me
and throw things that seem
precious to me
break my stuff
yell
hang up on me
because I want to hear it
i am as deep as a wordless well
and i am waiting for you
all night under the moon
and you can walk right out to me
and yell or whisper
as long as you want
while the grass gets flat
beneath your angry feet
and the birds get restless
and the trees bend down
to hear you
they want to know, too
they want to reach up for you
and complain
tell me all night long
and into next week
christ into next year
tell me cause
i want to know