Neurodiversity

Lamppost Hierophant

This poem was written for Sam Drezner, the son of filmmaker Todd Drezner who has released a new documentary, Loving Lampposts.  Todd and his wife Erika discovered that Sam was autistic shortly before his third birthday.  Drezner made this documentary about his son as well as about the whole autism and neurodiversity debates.  You can watch the trailer on its website in the earlier link as well as see a clip of his son visiting the lampposts here.

I first heard about this documentary through Steve Silberman’s Neurotribes Blog.  I was fascinated by Sam’s fascinating with the lampposts, and was reminded of how I have my own special interests as an Aspie.  I am posting this poem in Sam’s honor.

for Sam Drezner

There are four of them.
Each day, the sun rises and warms our faces in the East.
Each day, we breathe out the smoke of our spirits until it is spent.
And each day, you are divining these lampposts.

Each day, the sun calls out names from the East.
You call out sacred names in Prospect Park
each day, to divine each of these lampposts:
the faithful priest, reaching out his tiny fingers.

You call out sacred names in Prospect Park,
names that no one else understands
except you, the faithful priest with tiny fingers
reaching out to interpret angled metal and glass.

Names that no one else understands –
we of the computer mind use them to build our temples, our mysteries.
You reach out to interpret angled metal and glass;
I reach out to interpret word, lyric, and song.

We of the computer mind build our temples, our mysteries,
and light our glass shatter heart altars within.
I reach out to interpret word, lyric, and song
and build my hallelujahs while you touch the face of God.

To light your glass shatter heart altar from within,
you supplicate to the Four in Prospect Park each day;
with electric hallelujahs you touch the face of God
and borrow their light to shine behind your stained glass chest.

You supplicate to the Four in Prospect Park each day,
wrapping arms around their lithe, green and black waists.
Borrow their lights to shine behind your stained glass chest;
let no one tell you that your faith is misplaced.

While you wrap your arms around their lithe, green and black waists
they will smile and see your devotion.
Let no one ever tell you that your faith is misplaced.
Keep touching the faces of God.

Your lampposts will smile, see the devotion.
Each day, as we breathe out the smoke of our spirits until it is spent,
keep on touching those faces of God.
There are four of them.

More of Nicole Nicholson’s poetry can be found at at Raven’s Wing Poetry, her prose at Woman With Asperger’s.

Lamppost Hierophant appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Nicole Nicholson on 07/14/11 in Art/Play/Myth, featured | 1 Comment | Read More