He and I

Lesley Beck

Description

He And I is a collection of sixteen poems or word pictures catching pivotal moments that tell the story, from traumatic birth to current times, of life with a disabled child and then young adult. These poems are fearless in sharing the love, the warmth and frequent humour with unflinching honesty. They capture what it means to have the privilege and challenge of raising someone for whom the world is sometimes confusing, overwhelming and often excluding. They also show how as a parent you can feel entrusted with loving and caring for a delightful visitor from another planet, one for whom you are both ambassador and interpreter. You are given extraordinary opportunities to view the world through a different prism.These poems capture events and share them with the reader through moments of laughter, gut twisting fear and unconditional love. The reader is invited to understand the concept of the shadow child, that in many ways you feel you have two children - the one who is and the one who so nearly was, the child you dreamt about throughout your pregnancy and never quite got to meet. Yet they are not really entirely separate, they ebb and flow into each other, as described in "Door Ajar".Award winning playwright Lisa Evans describes it as "A work of heartbreaking honesty and love. You laugh, you cry, you begin to understand".I, is Lesley Beck, a semi-retired counsellor and psychotherapist living amongst the same wonderful friends and neighbours for the last 35 years in West London. He, is her son, an accomplished drummer, a director of the Mango Mammals Record Label, a songwriter, a man of wit, skills and talent. He has Down's Syndrome, is on the Autistic Spectrum and lives in an assisted living community in East Sussex.

Sujets

• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 15 mars 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781803139135
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright © 2022 Lesley Beck

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 9781803139135

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This book is dedicated to my son, a gift



I, is Lesley Beck, a semi-retired counsellor and psychotherapist living amongst the same wonderful friends and neighbours for the last 35 years in West London. He, is her son, an accomplished drummer, a director of the Mango Mammals record label, a songwriter, a man of wit, skills and talent. He has Down’s Syndrome, is on the autistic spectrum and lives in an assisted living community in East Sussex.


Contents
Slick
Door Ajar
Imperfect Offering
Game Changer
Octopus
Heroes
Hero No More
Alert
Mourning
Best Gift
And Then
Disco
Heartsong
Missing
Magic Numbers
What If


Slick
It was supposed to be cranberry ice cubes and soft music
It’s the beeps I remember
The rhythmic Morse code of machines
And then, absence of beeps
Punctured by the violence of voices, hands, feet, wheels
Lights a blur as we hurtle down the corridor
The urgency, the running, discordant noises, without rhythm
Metal on flesh, limbs, smells, the grasp, the pull, then
It’s, it’s like a bird in an oil slick
A moment caught in freeze frame
And silence, absolute terrifying silence, because
There should be a cry but
There is only silence
And then a sound, like slurping on a straw
And a tiny mewing
And we collectively breathe again

I am cold, shakingly, shockingly cold
Jabs, drips, steel
Where are you my little bird
Tarred and limp

Another freeze frame
Voices, faces peering, staring
Embarrassed, no or yes, yes embarrassed
But, for me, embarrassed for me because
I cannot now be admitted to the club
I have failed the criteria
There can be no welcoming fanfare for me

Later, much much later
People are called, contacts are made, details given
Minimal
The sex, the syndrome, the chosen name
To strained and false good cheer
But from you, an unexpected, chilling silence
And then
Oh dear me, oh dear dear me
Well I suppose I’ll get used to it but
I do think you’ve chosen a very strange name
And I laughed, laughed aloud
For my oil slicked little bird
And his very strange name.


Door Ajar
Sometimes I glimpse who he so nearly was
Who he might have been, he
A kintsugi bowl
A piece of golden joinery
The one cannot exist without the other
Sometimes he walks hand in hand
With his shadow self
A sudden turn or tilt of the head
A smile full of wit or mischief
He looks me in the eye
Sharing a joke, an ingenious pun
Seated at his kit, he drums with skill and poise
Focused, alert, vibrant, assured and
Claiming his place in the scheme of things
Belonging
Sometimes his shadow self is hard to find