Down Syndrome Poem by Cainneach Rua

Down Syndrome



In a restaurant she approached me, proudly shows me her new toy, a little green tractor with yellow stripes. I see the sheer happiness in her eyes lit up like a city street. Her giant smile lifting the whole world with its corners. Now no longer a child but a knowledgeable farmer of fifty years old she drives her John Deere through lush fields of carpet, bringing hay to cattle and silage to sheep. Charmed I look on from a distance as she plays across the floor. Absorbed. A little girl so happy and un-phased by worldly things. I envy her. Oh to escape from cold-hard reality! Like a child pushes her toy tractor, the world pushes one along a path of stress and worry, our rubbery tyres becoming worn-out bringing hay to our cattle and sheep. Seeing her I realise it is not so much a condition as it is a gift. Perhaps we are in fact the unlucky ones, the ones to be pitied. Her mother pays the bill and they leave. The sky is grey outside. Through the window I see life creep along an unhappy city street.

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