Unconditional

my mother said to me

your body is broken

What good are you now?

it took months for me to

understand what she meant.

What good was I to her?

my mother put the cat

I bought her to sleep,

refusing medicine

that would have helped her

costing time and money

the cat was a failure

at her utility

my husband bought an older dog

a letdown in hunting and breeding

afraid of dry leaves, wet grass, wind

her utility a failure

she is renamed Athena

goddess of wisdom and courage

she sleeps with a blue and white sloth

and she loves sunshine and head rubs

my sister found us a small cat

in a room marked sick and abused

someone had abandoned her when

she became a useless burden

Baby Cat is home with us now

curled up on my leg, paws stretched out

her soft fur no longer matted

her sea green eyes bright and sparkly

I watch them both enjoy their life

not dependent on usefulness

to be loved unconditionally

I put my computer down and

curl up in between them

catching the sunrays on my face

Prairie Madness

I needed the prairie

I needed the quiet hum of the bees

the chirping of the grasshoppers, the

rustling tall grasses undulating in the wind

years ago, it was said that immigrants

experienced “Prairie Madness” from

screaming winds that whirled around

dried up corn husks and

abandoned homesteads

but for me, the prairie was my sanctuary

from the outside world

I know now that I’m autistic

and what was so disabling

was how the world treated me.

after a school day of constant noise and

smells and touches and pain and hot and

cold temperatures and questions and

dodgeballs and bullying and trying so hard

to keep from stimming and crying

I would have the prairie

I could stim and not worry what

my body was doing, not worry at all

as I wandered through the pussy

willows down to the creek

the bugs and my dog the only souls

keeping me company

for with them, with the prairie,

I could be myself.