If the crosswalk beeps
in Morse code today,
let me decode the city's
hidden language—
a symphony of access
denied and granted,
playing on loop,
humming in my ears.
Wheelchair ramps ripple
like mirages,
shimmering promises
of inclusion
that vanish upon approach,
leaving me stranded
on concrete islands.
Stares stick to my skin
like summer sweat,
curious eyes mapping
the topography of difference—
their gaze heavier
than any mobility aid.
I see it:
to be visible
yet unseen.
The city's pulse skips a beat
in my presence,
its rhythm faltering,
unsure how to accommodate
the syncopation
the glide of my quiet path.
Skyscrapers stretch
beyond my limited reach,
their upper floors a metaphor
for aspirations
deemed too lofty
for my grounded reality.
Towering kiosks map the
urban expanse,
a vertical maze
navigated from below,
spelling out a world
not designed for all.
All I feel is the texture
of exclusion.
In crowded elevators,
space warps around me—
bodies contort
to avoid acknowledging
the elephant in the room:
my necessary presence.
Traffic lights flicker
in a language
I've learned to mistrust—
green not always meaning go,
red not always stop—
safety a relative concept
in a world built for others.
Night pulses with distant rhythms,
neon promises flicker above,
their allure beyond the reach
of earth-bound dreamers.
a constant reminder
of a world I perceive differently.
I am both landmark and obstacle
in this cityscape,
my existence a challenge
to urban planners,
a human call
for universal design.
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Beyond Your Labels | Poems
PoetryThis collection is for anyone who has ever felt out of step with the world, for those who find power in perseverance. These poems are the words I couldn't speak, the feelings I couldn't express, now given life on paper.
