A mother's battle

There he goes
spinning in circles
arms flapping,
one continuous motion
to the tips of his fingers,
criss-cross back and forth
until satisfied, he stops.
Eyes once vibrant, alive
now vacant, peering straight
through me.
The shrieks begin,
loud, shrill, headache-inducing.
Biting his fingers
he runs into the wall.
Turning, looks me in the eye.
"Mimmi I ove ou."
He's back, but for how long?

Doctors, therapists
testing, instructing;
a never-ending process,
five steps forward, twenty in reverse.

Tired and worn, yet my battle's hardly begun.