A Poem by Joanne Limburg

Babylon 4

א. Be aware that I am
ב. Retreating to the tiny infinite chamber
ג. Of a psalm. Here I can sorrow and rage but
ד. Keep it contained. I can file myself as a sealed
ה. Envelope full of curses that can
ו. Never hurt anyone,
ז. Because they are never precisely articulated. I have
ח. Learned that
ט. Anguish can be acceptably framed, if
י. Spoken in language
יא. That is recognisably
יב. Biblical. These are not words for which I can be held
יג. Responsible, because I am not their
יד. Originator; neither would I claim to
טו. Know
טז. Exactly what they mean.
יז. Nobody else knows either,
יח. But everyone
יט. Likes the sound of them. Be
כ. Aware that I am, right now,
כא. Sharing my tiny infinite chamber with others, so many others, even
כב. Those who think they are my enemies – yes, even with you.

Joanne Limburg has published three collections, most recently The Autistic Alice (Bloodaxe). Her latest non-fiction book is Letters to my Weird Sisters: On Autism, Feminism and Motherhood (Atlantic Books). She teaches creative writing at Cambridge University's Institute of Continuing Education and is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature.