We had a Autism Awareness presentation yesterday, and as homework, I asked my Writing Workshop kids to write a poem in which they explored an alternate way of seeing:
What is “seeing”? How does your perspective affect the way you understand the world and how you express yourself in it? What happens when your way of seeing is vastly, drastically different from others’ ways of seeing?
Here’s what I came up with:
The roaring in my ears is incessant, lending the perfect soundtrack to the pounding of my heart I knew this would happen I brought myself here to this place of buzzing lights and cockroaches, of screeching metal on metal protests – No, no! I won’t do it; you can’t make me - of casual carelessness, jostling and touching and nearly tripping, of intimacy with strangers I’ll never see again. As newspapers and paper bags bearing the oily ghosts of someone’s breakfast chase each other in the stinking breath, hot and dusty and sharply metallic the train arrives and I knew this would happen and - No, no! I won’t do it; you can’t make me.