I climbed down
from the tangled branches
of my thoughts
to greet you
but it was too late
you were gone.
Don’t give up on me
I love you can’t you see
but there is such difficulty
all because I am Aspie.
(Click http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/ellen-stockdale-wolfe.html for information on, and to purchase my Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir.)
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Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
Beautiful poem, Ellen–and it has me pondering about some “indifferent” folks I’ve known….
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September 20, 2013 at 6:59 PM
And your instincts are probably right. Thanks for writing. Hugs, Ellen
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September 20, 2013 at 7:04 PM
Intense imagery of the tangled branches of thoughts, quite an apt picture of a perspective of the Asperger syndrome. Supposed indifference is often misunderstood. This poem reflects the pathos of people inflicted with Asperger’s syndrome, and I can feel it from the words. Thank you for bringing this to light and making us more aware of this condition. Upon looking it up, there are a lot of famous people who have contributed a lot to society, who were also inflicted with Asperger’s syndrome — wow, Abraham Lincoln, Mozart, Emily Dickinson, Thomas Edison, Michelangelo, Mark Twain, Albert Einstein, Carl Jung, Beethoven, etc. etc.
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September 20, 2013 at 10:00 PM
Thank you, Dee, for looking it up (I should have provided a link) and for your kind comment. I am glad my points got across to you. By the way, I love your posts!
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September 21, 2013 at 10:59 AM
I suspect no one can truly understand – it must be painful to experience their misunderstanding
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September 21, 2013 at 8:16 AM
Well, it was in the past more so– but no more, and probably less, painful than a LOT of other things! Thanks for understanding, though. People like you are rare indeed!
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September 21, 2013 at 10:57 AM
I feel as though I am caught often deep within the banks and valleys of my mind, staring into space as if looking for a hole in reality, something to tell me it’s a dream. Then I wake to find someone is trying to talk to me about something trivial, and I’ve been tearing holes in the very fabric of space..
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October 6, 2013 at 7:45 AM
This is such a spiritual comment. The Hindus believe our supposed “reality” is all delusion, a dream, “Maya” they call it. I know those dips and valleys of supposed “real” life. When I was deep in psychosis which I describe in my memoir in detail, I could switch back and forth between two realities and non one even knew how far out into inner space I was.
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October 6, 2013 at 11:46 AM