The Chamber of Ten Thousand Fossils

Posted on February 16, 2011


 

Dad. Look at this!

A stone

Glides  from your hand.

It’s “interesting.”

You point.

It’s a shell, petrified.

Pleistocene era.

It belongs in my collection.”

In your room.

In Dresser Drawers,

Cabinets. Plastic Bins.

Paper cups. Drinking glasses.

Salad Bowls.

Meals for a Hungry

Stone Eater. Fossils.

Your principal sees you

Sifting the

Rock mulch.

Tree lawns and buildings

You have created

A special

Hunting Ground

Fossils.

Frustrated

I explain

Rocks are everywhere

Just elements

Our environment

Encases us,

Suffocates us

With fossils

You reject this

Each past life

Entombed forever

Is special

Drawn into your world

During anxious moments

Before school

After lunch

As other students

Clear the halls.

It’s safe to stare at fossils

Beneath the principal’s

Windows, then pocket

Just a few.

I wonder  if the five tons

You have stashed away

In your room.

Will come crashing

To the floor below.

Principal says he’s

Waiting until you graduate.

To replace them.

He has befriended you

But you don’t know his name.

One of the rare ones

Who try to understand.

You share your

Treasures with him.

He Feels joy

that sometimes

You share your world.

Knowing it’s a rare thing

Just as sometimes

You let me in.

Are we fossils too?

To be a fossil

In your world

Is, after all,

Special

From: A Father’s Songs to His Autistic Son – 7

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