A poem —

Wow, I just found this poem as I was packing and sorting notebooks in my laundry room. I wrote this 8/26/90, just 3 months before Chris was born.

curled up tight
in a cocoon
hug the branch
call it home
afraid to fall
out of the shell
to unknown
dangers

can the cocoon
stay home
safe inside me?
what would this
safety bring?

dh 8/26/90

That really struck me – my 14 year old Chris, still in his cocoon, of autism, and deafness

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