Simple Writes discussion

Maycomb
Cling to tradition,
You're proper young ladies now--
Sheltered southern belles.
*
A Day In Early April
Barren winter trees
Stand starkly against grey skies,
Branches reaching up.
*
Sixteen
I've had quite a life.
Now what will the future hold?
I hope it is good.

Always watching and waiting
By the sea for news of their lovers—
Cruel is the mistress of war.
Day by day those left behind stare at the sea,
Ever hoping for word, and ever
Fearing it in equal measure.
Gone are the glory days, before the call.
Happiness left with the last departing ship.
In the night, they are forced to return to empty houses,
Jars of preserves line the shelves, but there is no one to appreciate them. The
Kings and queens of these foreign lands must have no heart, the women think as they
Linger on the shore, waiting for their
Martyred brothers, husbands, sons—who
Never come back.
Of course, they lost. The enemy was far more
Powerful, with troops upon troops and countless weapons. The
Question is, were all those lives wasted? The ones back home, were they
Ruined for nothing? Their
Small cottages seem so huge, now
That the warriors are gone.
Understanding is impossible, and there is a note displayed on the wall in one house:
“Victory will be ours, dear
Wife, my beautiful
Xandra. Don’t worry,
You will see me again soon.
--Zacharias.”

I see life through a prism.
My first pair
Of glasses
Had a red frame.
(They were always breaking, but I don't remember why.
Am I blocking something out? Forgetting the pain?)
The protagonist in my first favorite series
Was an orange cat.
(Those books got me through
The heartbreak and isolation)
I offered a yellow balloon
To the adults of the house,
Attempting to stop the fight.
(I didn't know, then,
That not everything was so easily fixed)
It's been said that envy is green.
Well, then,
I am verdant.
(I still struggle
Not to feel inferior)
Blue is
The color of the house I grew up in
(Where I longed for love,
Only to learn about hate)
Indigo and violet--shades of purple,
They were my favorite colors.
(Back before innocence was lost)

After a while,

All the so-called ‘advocates’ start to sound the same.

They claim to want the best for us,

But in the same breath,

They compare us to a missing piece

In a jigsaw puzzle.

When really,

We’re right here,

Understanding every hateful word.

They say that they know best

When it comes to autism,

But they never once

Ask actual autistic people

How we feel—

About a cure,

About being treated like we’re stupid.

About what it’s like,

Being different in a neurotypical world.

They told me my father didn't love me.
They were wrong.
All those broken years, I thought he had abandoned us,
When he was fighting so hard to get back into our lives.
They told me my grandmother would take us away,
And she did, in a sense.
But I'm glad of it.
My life was broken pottery,
And she repaired it,
Making seams of molten gold.
They told me my differences were bad,
That I was any number of unspeakable things.
Now I'm proud to be red in a sea of blue
And I’m learning to call myself smart,
Where before, my name may as well have been stupid.
They told me my sister could do no wrong,
And this had the opposite effect,
Making me berate her at every turn.
It's still hard to look past the old days,
When she was an angel from the realms of glory,
And I was a rotten piece of fruit--
But it was never her fault, or mine.
They told me everything, but gave me nothing--
I'll never believe their lies again.

Father God, we seek Thee in the brightness of the day,
And in the darkest midnight, Thou guidest our way.
Father God, we praise Thee when times are fine and fair,
When ev’rything is breaking, Thou art still present there.
God is the wonderful Sovereign,
God is the Shepherd, we know,
God will not ever leave you,
No matter where you go.