Sandra has been caring for her son Patrick (above) in the north-west of Melbourne for many years. Patrick is autistic and mainly non-verbal. He is also an accomplished artist. Below is a poem Sandra has crafted about caring for Patrick.
Brushstrokes of the Heart
She doesn’t count the years in days,
But in quiet triumphs, soft displays —
A glance, a smile, a painting done,
A journey walked, beside her son.
At thirty-three, he speaks in hues,
In oceans deep, in twilight blues.
No words, but oh — his hands, they tell,
The stories he can’t voice so well.
She holds the brush he cannot drop,
The tears that fall, she does not stop.
Her life, a rhythm tuned to him,
Each moment bright, or softly dim.
She taught him not with charts or books,
But heart, and warmth, and knowing looks.
He paints, she watches, breath held tight,
As wonder spills from black and white.
A streak of gold across the gray,
She knows what he can’t find to say.
She sees the joy, the weight, the storm,
All swirling in his vibrant form.
She’s trimmed her life to fit his needs,
Pulled weeds of fear, grown quiet deeds.
No salary, no grand applause,
Just boundless love — without a pause.
And though her back is bent with years,
Her eyes still shine through silent tears,
Each canvas hanging in the light,
Is proof that she has done it right.
For in his world, both bright and still,
She gave him space, and gave him will.
And through her care, he found release,
A life, a voice, a masterpiece.
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