Chalk Moon

I see my child running left to right. 

With an adult like animal chasing after her–one that once was human–strung by an invisible rope–sweating 

Big, fat drops of sweat  born in a long day of keeping up–

To my daughter’s erratic steps. 

The chime and play of the entire school on the blacktop is a world entirely unbeknownst 

to me—a mirage–

I see my child in the wood chips–curiously untamed, naked screaming 

like a distraught fawn bare shaky on her legs spitting angst at everyone–

And the principal hovering–a shadow looming over head

–so much is looming overhead–

like the sun beating off of the bald between his thick, pulsating veins–screaming

          Expectations——

Covering her in darkness– 

dimming her shining light. 

the sparkle in the corner of her smile. 

    Putting her out. 

Until she allows herself to be picked up

Surprisingly open–

completely changed. 

the fawn wrapped up and carried off–

the shadow moving alongside with her. 

Isolation. 

Oh, how the shadows and moon haunt this child— paths we did not take on our 

Walks–on her walks– because they were ever present lurking spewing black across the tethered concrete–an illusion of what is and what isn’t. 

and the moon innocent taunting at her every step–

The pain shaking bones from pushing and climbing and negotiating and ultimately,

Always compromising. 

Always.

navigating broken steps, roots, shrub, terrain barefoot to get to her– to reach for her–

deep cuts between the skin of my feet 

forever reaching for her—

I am forever reaching for her—

I climb the ladder, ragged and worn. The incline a testament to my resilience

or a final stab at this never-ending teeth grinding, shape shifting, rainbow dream that introduced itself to me 

first in the unsettling, deafening silence of a hospital delivery room 

and then again 

in her everlasting cries–

Everlasting cries under the moon–

I fall into her own–not in defeat, Ever. 

But surrender— 

Surrender. 

pink kittens, black and white stars, manic stickers, tape, pages and 

Pages—acorns, rocks and twigs morphed at the seam of her pillows– everything means something–

A crescent nest, a creak leading to a mountain of nuts spilling over–

Spilling over me–

like that light from the moon–

Everything means something to her. 

I dig deep and search for her limbs– her forehead hot and sweaty fully aware 

That she is running erratic still– chasing bunnies, squirrels, Tuna, Perry, Frankie, and Devil. 

In her dreams—her tiptoes–

Across her chalk moon– across her chalk rainbow and fish, climbing stairs–higher and higher—until

we reach — 

I rest my head close to hers respecting the space she’d fight for were she awake–

And I wonder–in this Forever Autism–breathing her in–

Breathing her out– 

Forever Autism–

am I with her now?

Light and free–

Chasing Tuna and Frankie across her chalk moon?