American You

In a world of colors, vivid and bright,  

Where each soul shines in its own unique light,  

A phrase dances softly, like whispers in air,  

“Oh, you don’t look autistic”—a thought laid bare.

What does it mean, this look we can see?  

Is it found in the gaze or the way one might be?  

In laughter that bubbles or silence profound,  

In the rhythm of footsteps that echo, unbound?

Is it the way one might fidget, or stare at the sky,  

Or the comfort in patterns, the need to comply?  

Is it found in the stories that swirl in the mind,  

Or the beauty of moments, uniquely defined?

Autism is not a face, nor a mask we can wear,  

It’s a tapestry woven with threads of despair,  

And joy intertwined, with quirks that are ours,  

In the starlight of difference, we shine like the stars.

So let’s celebrate all the ways that we’re bright,  

In the spectrum of souls, we find our true light.  

For each voice has a story, each heart has a song,  

In a world that is varied, we all belong.