Poetry amongst the dust bunnies....

I've been confined to the house since New Year due to lack of gritting on the roads here around me so cabin fever set in and I did what I haven't done in over a year... I had a good clear out of the bits of paper, junk and clutter that seems to magically accumulate over time. I am fascinated how much we hold onto in the chance that someday, we might just use it. Today I was ruthless and decided that the binmen will earn their wages well when they can get the lorry back up the ice impacted hill I live on.

For hours, I sorted and created piles of stuff for binning or recycling (or just putting back where it belonged!) I'm ashamed to say that my inner sloth must have been residing in the utility as there was paperwork dated 07 and clothes that Munchkin couldn't possibly squeeze into pushed into bags which I had intended "putting away later"... Its cathartic when you finish and see the results of your efforts. Where others had to entertain bored children, I found a little silver lining to our ASD cloud... I was free to attack the clutter and Munchkin played happily by herself in her playroom (I now have to do a clear up job in there, but hey, the kitchen and utility look GREAT!)

While clearing a shelf in the kitchen, I came across a poem that had been copied and given to me just after Munchkin was diagnosed, and I smiled as I read the words printed in front of me. It was written by R.S. Thomas and would like to share it with you here.

Children's Song

We live in our own world,
A world that is too small
For you to stoop and enter
Even on hands and knees,
The adult subterfuge.
And though you probe and pry
With analytic eye,
And eavesdrop all our talk
With an amused look,
You cannot find the centre
Where we dance, where we play,
Where life is still asleep
Under the closed flower,
Under the smooth shell
Of eggs in the cupped nest
That mock the faded blue
Of your remoter heaven.

I just love the way he portrays the innocence of children, untarnished by the world. I like to believe that its not a world children are trapped in, rather a pure beautiful place that they can seek sanctuary in, as all children do before the harsh realities of growing up change that world to an adult world, with cynicism, responsibilities and stress.