Poems on autism by Thomas G. Andry

What is it like to have a Child?
What is it like to have a child?
Who has needs severe or mild
Preconceived dreams, hopes and plans
Have slipped through my fingers like grains of sand
What is it like, rare as it may be
To sometimes see someone looking just like me
Brief glimpses of a smiling face
But from a far, far, far away place
What is it like as days pass to years?
There are plenty moments that dry your tears
An appropriate comment from out of nowhere
Tells me that there’s a real person in there
What is it like to look thru my eyes?
Concerns about the future, not times gone by
What’s to be when I’m no longer here?
Who will protect him from the fears?
Of people who do not lend a hand
Or from things he just can’t understand
From places that he should not go
From things that he really should know
From dogs or cats or things that are wrong
From an institution where he doesn’t belong
Why do I doubt and have a care
When I know that God’s hand has always been there
He has selected me for this mission in life
To watch and guard this child living the strife
What is it like to have a child?
Who has needs severe or mild
How blessed I am and how really great
To see God’s “special work” and celebrate.
by Thomas G. Andry
He Danced!
The day was soon to come
The wedding of an elder son
An autistic child doesn’t travel well
And in my son’s case it’s a living hell
He tarnished my thought of wedding music
When I told him he was to be included
A dance of wills began as he tried to undo
The uncertainty that I was leading him to
“It makes my stomach hurt and I’m afraid.”
Are some of the things he repeatedly said.
On my knees was the only place to go
But he could not replace his thoughts of woe
He continued to complain, anguish and cry
“I’m not going, if I have to fly”
And every other reason came to his lips
As he hoped he would make me give up this trip
This dance continued without a pause
As he tried to understand the cause
But I was listening to a different song
For his safety, he had to come along
The day came and the music grew louder
Groom, bride, guests and flowers
Before I knew it, it was done
The groom and bride were finally one
Real music began and not just in my head
I realized my son had enjoyed where he was led
And not just the planes, clouds, mountains and farms
The next thing I knew, he had the bride in his arms
No longer to the music in my head
But this dance was to the prayers I had said
What’s so special about this dance?
For an autistic child it is a chance
In this place full of music, noise and chatter
Something happened that really mattered
He came out of his world of sameness and rote
And entered mine full of joy and hope
That smile on his face as the music was followed
In this room that has now become so hallowed.
What is so special about this dance?
Not just for a bride giving him a chance
But for my son,
He danced
He danced!
by  Thomas G. Andry
weddingdance

Saint Philomena The Wonder Worker (poem)

The king and queen no baby had;
They longed to be a mum and dad;
To pagan gods they prayed each day;
But still no baby came their way.

Then good advice was given them;
It proved to be a priceless gem;
Christians are what you should be;
Then a baby blessing;
You shall see!

When this was done;
The grace was granted;
And with little Philomena;
They were enchanted! 

When little Philomena had reached twelve years;
Bad news filled up their eyes with tears;
On their country small and poor;
The emperor of Rome;
declared a war !

Let’s go to Rome;
The King told wife and daughter;
To plead with the emperor;
to prevent this slaughter.

At the mighty
Emperor’s court;
They pleaded with him;
the war to abort.

The emperor had a new idea;
He said there’s nothing more to fear.
Give me your daughter;
To be my wife;
And I promise her;
A wonderful life! 

The offer took them
By surprise;
A refusal would mean;
Their country’s demise.

The king and queen were filled with gladness;
But Philomena was overcome by sadness.

To be a bride of Christ;
She’d already taken a vow;
No way would Philomena;
Let it be broken now. 
The answer was a steadfast no;
The emperor now his force would show! 

To the dungeon Philomena was deployed;
All manner of torture was employed;
It was all to no avail;
The emperor’s methods were doomed to fail.
Because God Himself defended her soul;
Philomena kept her eyes on her heavenly goal. 

The maiden Philomena;
Was strengthened by faith and grace;
Until the day she could behold;
God face to face.

Finally the maiden Philomena was beheaded;
And the onlookers wept;
For many centuries in the catacombs;
She silently slept.   

At last her relics were located;
And the excavators were elated;
When Philomena’s relics,
Were bought up to the ground;
Miracles started to abound !

Some folks thought that miracles;
Had stopped with the Bible;
With Philomena;
They had a revival.

The sneering cynics;
Who had announced God’s demise;
Were by Philomena’s miracles;
Dealt a surprise.

Saint Philomena’s fame;
Spread everywhere;
And people ran to her;
Pleading in prayer.

No one was forgotten;
No one was left out;
The cripples;
The dying;
The sad;
And the needy;
All of them found;
Her miracles speedy.
 
From heaven she surveys;
All of our needs;
And on our behalf;
With God she pleads. 

Say a prayer to Saint Philomena;
And light her a candle;
Because there is no problem;
That she cannot handle.

There’s one thing more;
We should not ignore;
From her grave of silent obscurity;
She has come back to teach us;
About goodness and purity. 

 by Mary Ann Matulis

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