Autistic Poppy

I long to be a wise willow tree, nestled beside a tranquil lake,


Where animals live in harmony: little puffy rabbits hopping, lovely ducks that gracefully float; birds chirping melodies, and winds caressing softly my leaves.
Rainbows dance across the green grass, and every sound is peace itself.

Though here in India, I feel more like a solitary poppy, growing through sturdy asphalt.


Any moment, a scooty could run me over, a cow could shit on me.


The beggar might curse me for taking space on this earth.


A brick could fall from countless building sites.

Perhaps a honk so loud, I could instantly wither.


For now, here I am, lush red and all.


Growing more and more, I dance with the wind and the chaos of this land, witnessing but not suppressing.


Observing, integrating and letting go.