Aug
Annie Ahyoka
by Katie C.
She, who sits, rocks and swirls in a mind full of visions, with expressions of joy in her squeaks and laughs, giggles and groans.
She, who laughs at my anger when it bubbles over from hours of conflict and confusion, causing my heart to constrict and expand, stronger and tighter, deeper and fuller in every moment.
She, who hides in imaginary worlds, curled in nests of soft pillowy cotton and dark claustrophobic holes.
She, with her compassion for inanimate things and hard shelled creatures, giving them homes and caging them in her world of limited movement and restriction that equals safety.
She, who never looks, listens or responds to gentle or harsh teachings but later portrays the entire message in deep wisdom and understanding through stories, poetry and songs.
She, whose deep oceanic eyes reflect my every emotion and all the things that I dream I could ever be.
She, who watches without looking, hears without sounds, and speaks without saying a word.
She, who spends an hour visiting with the tree who knew she was coming when it was a seed, who whispered to her of it’s journey, its strength, and the sorrow for friends lost at the hands of humans.
She, who experts say will never feel as fully or interact as deeply and meaningfully as her peers lingers daily at the edges of the expanding universe, becoming the Truth in it’s entirety.
She, who beneath the surface of her simple and isolated communications holds the secret of soul and teaches us to hear.
She, who brings happiness, Annie Ahyoka, my child.
Tiffany V
I integrate Transformative Language Arts into any work I do, and I work with people all over the world, but I can't tell you who they are, due to NDAs! I was once told, “you exude art.” So, I decided to spend the rest of my life helping other like-minded individuals get to do the same. Let’s do something magical together!
Welcome to the Towers, Katie. This piece resonates, and does what good writing is supposed to do. Read this three times…going back for a fourth.
“Annie Ahyoka” left me with the impression of a child seeking shelter from the storm, but within that very restricted place, the sancturary of escape from “the sorrow of friends lost by humans”. I would guess that this is a set of memories past childhood remembering both the inner peace and experienced horrific with a will that has found moments of adventure and beauty as the inner child. She needs to live and express, so that the beneath the surface not be forgotten.
Brilliant.
I see this as a mother thanking the mother for her child.
Well done.
This is not just any mother being thankful for any child. Third paragraph from the bottom, “who experts say will never” is one of the keys to seeing beneath this surface. On my second read I picked up on, “her world of limited movement and restriction that equals safety.”
“She” is a child whom the so-called experts have classified as mentally or emotionally (or even physically) limited but whose mother, who spends the most time with her and learns the things only caring parents will ever know, understands there is great depth beneath her surface.
A wonderful reminder for us all not to take things at face value.
Yes Mac Eagan! This was my purpose, to portray the beauty and wisdom beneath the surface of an Autistic child. Thank you all for your comments and support, I am thrilled to have the opportunity to give and receive feedback in this writing community!
This was a joy to read. For the first half, I thought She was yourself, learning self-compassion. I like how you waited for the second half to reveal the special child. The tree passage was most revealing to me. Your daughter and the tree have a special language, so the doctors are wrong. She can communicate and feel, perhaps in a deeper way than we can. The tree’s kinship with her, its solidity, timelessness, and willingness to wait for this special messenger grounds the story. The tree’s sorrow for friends seems to be about logging, but I also think of your daughter and those like her: the need to understand these special children and not cut down their spirits.
My my, see we have stirred emotion. I loved it.
This rings true. The graph about the child laughing at your anger particularly speaks to the depth and complication of your love. Thank you.
This is absolutely beautiful. I too have a child on the autism spectrum and this really speaks to me. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Poetry expressed in the arms of prose. I enjoyed this one!
Such resonant longing and love in the lines…
Autism (I am assuming) is a mystery and a lingering grief for those outside, but the amazing things that can come forth are our most solemn assurance that existence doesn’t have to vibrate the on the same cerebral frequencies in order for that living miracle of being to express the rich inner life of a growing soul. Talk and touch are, in the end, only superficial methods of touching. Souls need only be near to comfort with the familiarity and the light of their loving intentions.
Is is lovely that you shared such a glowing love in your heart for another life that can only receive in the now.
Thank you