You may remember in December, I was lucky enough to have a piece of mine called “The Illusionist” featured in a new literary and culture magazine called Aeos.
I’m very pleased to announce that I’ve a piece called “Who are You” in this new issue, and it’s now on sale via the link below.
While I must make it clear that I work for Optima Low Vision Services, I am not in the sales team, nor have I been asked or given any incentive whatsoever by them to create this post.
As an autistic person, I have always worn sunglasses in social or difficult situations as they act like a two-way mirror (I can see out, but my eyes can’t easily be seen) and this helps me to manage eye contact with other people. Not only do I often find that eye contact is physically painful, but it increases my feeling of vulnerability. I have therefore worn sunglasses inside and outside for a long time during social events. However, I have found that sunglasses can make it more difficult to see in low light and this creates a few problems, as you might imagine.
So, when I came across what looked like a pair of sunglasses in our stock at work, I thought they looked good and I bought a pair. However, I realised quickly that they are actually filters, and are far superior to sunglasses for me.
Because the lenses of the filters are not as tinted as sunglasses, they can be used in low light situations, and I can see completely clearly both inside and outside.
This makes it much easier and more comfortable for me to engage in and manage conversations and social interactions indoors, or when it’s overcast or twilight, outside. At the same time, the tint on the filters is at prescription level and is therefore sufficient to protect my eyes from harsh sunlight, which is very important for people of my age.
I have found that the filters help me to navigate difficult social situations with much greater ease, and are much more effective for me than sunglasses have been. They transform intimidating environments like travelling on my own on a packed train for several hours, or potentially stressful social interactions, both inside and out, into more manageable experiences. They’ve made my social life much less stressful.
In addition, the lenses come with a choice of frames and colours to suit everybody.
If you are interested in having a pair, please check out the website: https://www.optimalowvision.co.uk/
Stay safe
BC
I once heard a voicemail,
A ghostly whisper through static.
My grandfather’s voice,
Heavy from the weight of hospital walls.
“Hey son,” he said,
“Thanks for stopping by that day,
It meant the world to me.“
His words rolled in like thunder,
Drowning out the sterile quiet of my room,
A storm of his pride,
The kind that wraps around you like a warm coat.
“You made me proud,” he continued,
“You’ve grown into someone
I always knew you could be.”
Time collapsed.
His words built bridges,
And I could see his smile
Like a lighthouse, cutting through the fog.
He spoke of moments
Captured in the soft click of a camera.
In the warmth of a hug.
In the bittersweet taste of goodbye.
“Keep remembering,” he urged,
Inviting me to linger
In the chapters of his stories;
The pages of our shared history.
The message ended.
But the silence felt heavier than absence,
And I clung to his words like a lifeline.
So here I stand in the shadow of his voice,
Knowing he listens.
As I hear the voice again,
I find reasons to believe
In the strength of a visit…
In the echo of love that never really dies.
(c)BobChristian2025
I stand here,
My promise hanging in the air
Like a ghost.
My words echoing in my mind
“I’ll see you again, I promise.”
But life has a way of rewriting our scripts,
And I never got the chance to say
Goodbye.
You were the man
Who taught me the art of stories.
Who could weave magic with paint.
Your laughter a warm blanket
On cold winter nights, and now…
There’s an empty chair at the table.
An absence that feels like a weight
That I can’t shake.
I thought we had time.
I thought there would be more moments.
More days filled with your wisdom.
But time slipped through my fingers,
Like sand; like your last breath
I never got to witness.
And I’m left here, clinging to memories
That feel too fragile to hold.
The hurt wraps around me,
A heavy cloak of guilt,
Because I promised you,
And I wonder if you heard me?
If you knew I meant it.
If you felt my heart breaking from a distance.
If you smiled that knowing smile
And whispered, “It’s okay.”
But what if it’s not okay?
What if the weight of my absence
Is something you carry, too?
What if the silence between us
Is filled with unspoken words?
With the “I love yous”
That got lost in the shuffle of life?
I’m haunted by the doubt,
The what-ifs that circle like vultures:
What if I had been there?
What if I had made that call?
What if I had held your hand
Just one more time
And whispered all the things
That now hang heavy in my chest?
But deep down,
I know you’d forgive me.
You always did.
You were a man of grace,
A wellspring of understanding,
And I can almost hear your voice,
Soft and steady, saying,
“Don’t carry that burden, let it go son.”
It’s hard to let it go, grandad.
It’s hard to release the guilt.
To accept that life is unpredictable;
That love doesn’t always come with guarantees.
But I carry you with me.
In every laugh,
In every tear, and in every moment
I feel the weight of your absence.
I remember you,
And I find comfort in the thought
That you’re watching,
That you’re still here,
In the spaces between breaths,
In the love I give,
In the stories I tell,
In your name.
So I’ll carry you with me,
Not as a weight, but as a reminder
That promises might falter,
But love endures.
That forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves,
And that one day, when the time is right,
I’ll see you again.
Not as a ghost, but as a part of everything I’ve become.
(c)BobChristian2020
In December last year, a small group of poets I belong to online, (I say small, but there’s 400 or so) came up with an idea. Each person could submit up to two poems to the group each month for a year, and a prompt would be sent each month to remind you, if you took part. Then at the end of the year, all of those pieces submitted would form an anthology – the group’s second, as far as I know. The resulting book would then be sold to raise money for charity.
This is the second, and hardest, of the two projects I’ve embarked on this year. I’m pledging to create one poem each month during 2025 to help the group with this worthy cause.
The other project I’m involved in is an anthology called “Fragments of an Unquiet Mind”. This is an anthology about mental health – a subject with which I have some experience. I have written about it in many forms through the years. This will also be sold for charity.
I feel very privileged to be able to be involved in projects like these; joining with other poets to make a real difference with my scribbles.
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 