"To Build Us Up"
Poem for a friend
Partial Disclosure: I wrote this for a poetry contest in a mad rush because read May as March… yeah, and I consider myself a wordly person. Oh well. I don’t care about the poetry contest and it’s hard to wait for May. I’m testing out this substack space and I’m wondering if the bots get in thoughts’ way. My words are absurd because what has occurred to my mind went softly astray and I’ve been searching for freedom in music and wisdom and in the early light before the start of a new day. I don’t believe that I am being seen, but still I’m tapping away. I have had a vision and when I pass over the last indecision, I’m going to let my voice loose for a day.
I worked with young children on the spectrum for fourteen months. A career educator and I learned more about how to find balance within from a child that stacked large lego blocks on their sides— un-clicked, insecure— until they were towers revealing a wiser kind of pride. It was my job to teach him how to speak. I managed to train him to say “up” when he couldn’t reach the top of his tower and looked to me for support. This child ‘asked’ me to write a poem for him last month. I thought it would be fitting for the poetry contest inviting entries around building each other up. It’s not a winner. I’m too much sinner. But— some might also recognize the internal cadence of a self-restrained internal singer.
To Build Us Up!
I once knew a beautiful boy
I was his guide, in brief employ--
ment meant to teach him well--
to help him navigate, to help him tell,
But all he knew; he knew it all;
I witnessed in his stacks, so tall.
This child has a special gift
For balancing every block he'd lift.
After completing the tasks set by me
I'd reward with his favorite opportunity
To do the thing he loved most of all:
To stack blocks to build up towers tall.
His eyes were bright with keen insight;
This child warmed with his inner light.
It gave me joy to watch him work,
seeking balance with wink and smirk.
And as I watched this maturity
In a boy so small-- he was barely three--
I learned that the lessons I tried to give
Were not all the things he needed to live,
But as his guide, I was to teach him how
To connect more than blocks, to be here, right now.
But when those beautiful eyes met mine
He taught me how to become aligned.
Without the words I tried to teach
This child taught me with non-verbal speech.
He'd look to me with his open heart
And I heard quite clearly: "I build up art!"
With every block, each unlinked lego
He showed me all I need to know.
Without a word, his intention clear,
"I'm building you up, so you can steer!
Take my advice when you must go
And teach the World all they need to know!"
So it was
with unspoken, non-verbal messaging skills
that this boy has filled my silent tills with trills
And now that I'm all stacked up with glee
I feel the urge rising up in me
To build the world up differently
If I may, if you please
If we could drop to our knees
And listen for the words not said
Because it’s not silent in their head
Some have powers the mundane can’t know
And it’s not strange how the thoughts that flow
We have new creative ways to build us now,
and the silent ones can show us how.
Grateful for technology
That gives a hint of telepathy
Because we text the things we think
And send them off as we sink
Into our rhythms of the day
That keep our feet bound to the clay.
But some don’t need any charged device
They just can connect without thinking twice
They go to gather— intelligently
In a safe place where we can’t see—
But that’s the only space where they can be
Free to chat with minds set free
And freed from the binding boundaries,
The presumptions of those that just can’t see
That their minds aren’t disordered,
But beautifully ordered
To read much more
than the message on the door
When they are rocking
Stop your gawking
They are channeling Love,
So let them be
start to sing for a silent,
wise and beautiful boy.
This piece is stunning. The rhythm, the ache, the quiet resolve - it builds like a hymn and lands like a truth you’ve always known but couldn’t quite say. I had to sit with it for a while after reading, in the best way.
As a fellow behavioral scientist, I often wondered if all those corporate org charts were just high-stakes simulations for what humans really need. I tried to take the high road, but let’s be honest…it was uphill both ways. Thank you for your service working with children.
So grateful we’re meeting here.
This piece radiates a quiet reverence—both for the child at its heart and for the unspoken wisdom that often goes unnoticed in the everyday. Your poem not only captures the essence of learning in reverse—teacher becoming the taught—but also makes space for a broader, deeper understanding of communication beyond words. The cadence of your writing mirrors the act of stacking those “un-clicked” blocks: precarious, deliberate, and profound. There’s a strong sense of humility here, of letting go of ego to receive something greater, something tender and transformative.
What stands out is how you’ve allowed the child’s way of being to reshape your own rhythm—not just in the classroom, but in your creative voice. The poem’s movement between literal and symbolic space honours the unseen work of connection, and you’ve rendered it with an emotional intelligence that speaks to anyone who’s ever been changed by another’s quiet presence. It’s not a contest entry—it’s a tribute, and one that sings beyond the page.