Three Poems

I've been writing for NaPoWriMo, but I haven't managed to put them up here.
So here they are:

Today, April 8, 2013, Yom Hashoah: Trigger Warning: The Holocaust

Remembering

I remember you.
Some I am related to by blood.
Some I am related to by religion, even if I am not religious.
Some I am related to by neurology, by disability.
Some I am related to in other ways, ways that were not what cost them their lives.
Some I have little in common with.
I remember them too.
I remember the Jews, with my relatives among them.
I remember the gay men made to serve out their sentence.
I remember the dissidents who dared to speak up.
I remember the Romani.
I remember the disabled, whose murders became mercy.
I remember the priests, I remember the Witnesses.
I remember the nameless, the forgotten, the lost.

Yesterday, April 7, 2013:

Finding Words

I hear, I know, I speak.
In the silence, I watch.
Quietly at times, louder at need.
Speaking when I can,
Sharing when I can't.
Writing because I must.

Sitting, typing, I find my words.
Words I did not know I had
Until I sat to write.
Words I had somewhere, but could not reach.
Now I can, now I write, now I am heard.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Day

A sign.
It says "Autism Doesn't Speak Unless Autistic People Are Speaking."
Another sign.
It says "Autistic and Proud."
A third.
It tells of the blood on their hands.
Three Autistics, one to a sign.
Sitting, waiting.
Spotting one who moves like us.
Watching.

A used book store.
A bin of free books, to look at, to bring home.
Shelves, shelves, books upon books.
One purchased, if only so that others do not read it.
Perhaps to be used in debunking.
Perhaps just to keep away from the innocents who don't know better.
Worth it.

A barbecue.
Meats, vegetables, sauces.
Udon noodles.
Three Autistics and a parent,
Eating together, happily.
A gong.
Loud, painful.
Overloaded.

The day ends.
Had ups, had downs, was good.