A blank page. I start over typing. And over. So over.
It is flashing green.
Ah, what do you know? So much.
I don’t say this. Don’t go.
You don’t. Go. You fly.
I know the view.
Day and night. So mixed up.
Oceans, currencies, visas.
No time. Tmi.
Old music. Sun shining. Tall sky.
Foggy bridges. Your pictures of rain.
No reason to cry.
I don’t analyze this. I’ve never been able
to push over borders.
I just take it for what it is. What it was.
What it’ll never…
Drink that sweet wine and your bitter beer
For me. Like old times.
Posted in Poetry
Born prematurely at just 25 weeks, Derek Paravicini has suffered from blindess, learning impairment and severe autism for his entire life. Despite his impairment, Derek has the unique gift of perfect pitch, and is able to play any piece of music after hearing it only once. In 2010, Derek was featured on Stan Lee’s “Superhumans”, whereupon tests verified his musical ability and confirmed his savantism. He began playing the piano at two, and subsequently attended the Linden Lodge School for the Blind in London. He met a piano instructor, Adam Ockelford, on his first visit to the school; recognising his genius, Adam began to teach him. Derek gave his first concert in South London aged seven. Adam is a Professor of Music at the University of Roehampton, the Chair of Soundabout, a charity supporting music provision for young people and founder of the AMBER Trust, supporting visually impaired children in their pursuit of music.
Dr. Brené Brown writes in her book, Rising Strong: The Reckoning, The Rumble, The Revolution: “The opposite of recognizing that we’re feeling something is denying our emotions. The opposite of being curious is disengaging. <…> When we deny our stories and disengage from tough emotions, they don’t go away; instead, they own us, they define us. Our job is not to deny the story, but to defy the ending—to rise strong, recognize our story, and rumble with the truth until we get to a place where we think, Yes. This is what happened. This is my truth. And I will choose how this story ends.”
And then I loved you
Reached out to you every chance that I got
I learned the spices to please you
In both the bed and the kitchen
And then I shared my food and my music with you
My body at night
But then you left
You were busy
And then I got used to waiting
Got tired of waiting
I started living my life
Hear birds sing
And that wind on my lips was delicious
People smiled at me
Talked to me
Men wanted me
And even though I didn’t want them back
I started living
My heart was beating so hard
And pumping my blood to my vessels
From the lungs breathing spring air
And I lived a full life
Then you wanted to share
But I did not care
I already lived my full life
I could not fit you in anymore
Among butterflies in my stomach
From somebody else’s smile.
“People are so afraid of variety that they try to fit everything into a tiny little box with a specific label,” says 16-year-old Rosie King, who is bold, brash and autistic. She wants to know: Why is everyone so worried about being normal? She sounds a clarion call for every kid, parent, teacher and person to celebrate uniqueness. It’s a soaring testament to the potential of human diversity.