I walk around the pitch, with you. You, who right now, high on life is smiling, laughing at your thoughts! A party in your mind! You laugh out loud, fascinated by the boat that landed on the pier at highest storm tide, days before. “Imagine! A boat on the pier!” Such glee! Like a refrain from a favourite rhyme, you repeat it ‘round and ‘round. I walk around the pitch, with you. You, who right now has a best friend for the very first time! It’s thrilling! You fill me in on all your plans. You’ll live together, go to college Play X-Box, Cops and Robbers! Down syndrome and autism makes no odds for you and your ‘best friend ever!’ I walk around the pitch, with you. You, who right now feels up to a walk Some fresh air on your masked-up face, I’ve never even seen in two years, since I met you. Your brother’s here too and although you don’t let anyone in, you keep a corner of your eye on him. He’s your little brother after all. He lost his father too. You lost your voice and zest for life that we all pray you’ll find again one day. I walk around the pitch, with you. You motley crew! One Cossack squats his path around, walks on haunches, plays the clown! One impossibly intelligent, a little arrogant- the glue! One thrilled to find a crew, desperately strives to stop his smiles he feels betrays his nonchalance. The other two don’t speak, heavier and slower They clumsily shuffle-run to keep up. A half sense of belonging binds them all together. I walk around the pitch with you. You, who right now feels like a rockstar! A best friend and a boyfriend! Score! You’re winning at this game called life! You met him at a disco You talk about him all the time, tell everyone you meet “Hey! Did you hear the news? I have a boyfriend!” Never been hugged or kissed before, now showered in both by bestie and boy. Not alone anymore. I walk around the pitch with you. You, right now transformed from a sullen, sulky boy at a desk in a room on your own all day who doesn’t talk, just frowns and grunts, stims and tics, into a playful joyous butterfly who would gladly fly around the pitch all day! Bubbling with favourite films and actors! Hollywood calls! There you will be ‘in the inner circle’, making your own ‘Stranger Things’ movies with its real cast and your imaginary friends. All off to conquer America in your very own private jet! All the hopes and dreams that spill onto that pitch, evaporating into the sky, makes me smile and sigh and cry
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A special place for special kids
to tell their secrets,
use their voices,
find their path.
(It somehow cut out the last bit of the poem!)