The Mornings Bring Pale Yellow by Aulton Grubbs

 

The morning brings pale yellow light into my room

Later and later each day

It’s like a slow motion film

It’s quiet and has soft edges

It’s a little fuzzy and feels hazy but so comfortable

I can sleep a minute more

Each day. When I dream I never wake

I open my eyes and I can tell it is fall

Lyla has learned the Fate of Ophelia and is singing it

It’s a beautiful lesson for a young woman

Elodie is still steadily breathing a calming feeling 

For her, and it gathers air into my lungs  

I notice a new light in the hall

The front door is open, caroling with the patterns

Of a changing season and a cool breeze

These sneaking wisps of sound 

Make a hymn. The girls hustle around, plant kisses

On my forehead and it’s quiet again

Mom chats with me while I get ready 

She reminds me of the date, our schedule, and reads

The weather. Last week we had a big

Ferociously glorious storm, but each day since,

Mom laments No rain today

Dad, though, rushes in and says loudly 

With relief, Aulton it is raining, come outside

I hurry, there is one tiny cloud, a soft shiny one

Right above my house. It spills over my mind,

Mists over my heart, and sprinkles 

My soul with a miracle. It only lasted a few minutes

But God made me my own cloud today

And I will never forget this goodness that

Is kindness in the form of pure water

Mind Over Emotion by Joshua Greiner

 

I’m delighted mom helps me change my thinking

I need help remembering life

Is hard, however it is human instinct

To overthink my lack

Of control. Everyone loses control sometimes

My instinct is to go back

To childhood how I 

Was bullied

God’s quiet help

Overcame his voice

Higher than the bullies

More numinous than human children

Emotions take me back

To that playground long ago

I limit my eating living in the painful past

When I’m dysregulated I hear their ridicule

Equal to hearing my own judgment 

I honestly listen longer to them 

Than to god. I need to make my mind 

Nicer to me. Mind controls emotion. 

I need to listen to god. 

No man is higher than god.

Brynn Forstner

 What I Have Noticed

A common misconception about autistics is that because of our apraxia we are non-thinking and also incapable of learning. While this subject is near and dear to my heart, I would like to bring another issue to people's attention. The condition is Chronic Lyricosis and it affects thousands, if not millions of people worldwide with no cure in sight. Chronic Lyricosis is a person's inability to identify and correctly sing lyrics to well known songs. I want to stress that these people are mentally intact and need our patience and we must remember to be respectful.

My own sister has been heard belting out "Now bring us the friggin' pudding" instead of figgy pudding throughout her childhood when singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas". Sadly she is not the only one affected. Our neighbor can be heard singing ABBA's  "Dancing Queen" as "young and sweet like a tangerine". My brother thought "Sweet dreams were made of cheese" for years. It's such a shame when I hear "Living On A Prayer" changed to "living on a prairie" by my father. 

Devastating as this disorder can be, we must remain kind and support these poor souls.  Love, understanding, and acceptance are what we all need in the world. So when you hear someone singing Bob Dylan "These ants are my friends, they're blowing in the wind", remember to be kind. They don't have the same lyrical discernment that you and I have.

Sonnet by Nadia Sohn Fink

 

Hats in a thinking stance ready to shape the head

Proof of the mind’s wearer 

Letting the outside self be read

Keeps fault with the message bearer

Farthest from title the given name

Self that no pity sows

Was maker of one semblance same

Quiet title no one knows

Poor hat! Detail telling one mark

The startled start of the round sewn

Sign to make the yellow lark

Sing the lost wound gown

With one set sign the wearer torn

Takes the message never born

Thomas Callahan

 

Spring - season to sing

Rain - hope that it brings

Flowers - yellow on green

Sky - cloudy and wind

Houses - faded and dim

Streets - lonely and quiet

Spring - season to sing

Rain - hope that it brings

Shadows - sending the words to the sky above

River - flowing in my song.  How far it has gone.

Music Angels by Brielle Stewart

 

I was recently asked to provide a piece of music for a young student of classical guitar to play at The Children’s Festival at The Vero Beach Art Gallery. He is part of The Music Angels Program. As described on their website, "Music Angels Education Fund is a 501(c) non-profit organization devoted to making a difference in Indian River County by providing private music lessons to children, aged 4-17 years old, who might not otherwise have access to them due to financial limitations.” I offered my work entitled Reagan to be performed. It was written as a sixteenth birthday gift to a dear friend. Reagan is a non-speaking woman like me. It struck me, as this polite young man played my song, that a non-speaker made this art for another non-speaker, and now an entirely speaking audience was enjoying it. I always tell my mother that it is more important to me that people know a non-speaker composed the work, rather than them knowing my name. I want others to know that non-speakers are capable of contributing meaningfully to the arts. After the performance I was treated as a composer and loving people waited to speak to me respectfully. I was not invited to participate out of pity. I made a spot for myself with hard work. Composing with my board is labor intensive, but it is my life’s joy. Inclusion in this event made me feel so embraced by my community. I am happy to live in a free thinking place where there were no barriers to my participation.

Dandelions by Arth S.

 Painting and poem by Arth S.

Creased seasons in August songs

Freezed stories all summer long

Can dandelions sing and dance

As spring comes, is there a chance?

Dearest memories forget me not

All I've read and calmly bought

There's a place where dandelions sing

Where they are loved and specially sought.