the wall and the road

i wrote this when i was asked how i felt about receiving a late diagnosis for a learning disability/neurological disorder

In the city of my mind, 

I have this wall.

This tall, large, thick, wall.

I used to be able to ignore it,

Everything I ever needed to do was inside the limits of my wall.

When I was small, I was curious and traveled to the very edge.

“That’s farther than most kids your age go,” they said.

I just nodded my head and went along.

But as I grew up, the closer to the wall I was required to go,

Until eventually, I was face-to-face with it,

Unable to go through.

“I can’t go past here,” I said,

“There’s a wall blocking my path.”

“No there isn’t,” they said,

“It’s the road. Everyone has them. That’s just what its like.”

I didn’t agree, but I tried anyway.

I couldn’t walk through, so I tried to dig down,

I ended up hitting rock bottom.

“That’s not how you walk the road,” they said,

mocking my dirty face.

I tried again.

I tried to climb the wall.

Using ridges and ledges, I climbed.

Miles, it seemed, I climbed, but went nowhere. 

Until I made a misstep and fell back down.

“You’re so clumsy,” they said

“Do it again, but actually try this time.”

I did. I tried again.

And again,

                     and again,

  and again,

                    and again,

Yet I could never get past this wall.

I eventually started calling out to my friends on the other side.

“It’s just a brick road,” my friends said,

“Some have more cracks, but it is all the same.”

That’s when I looked up at this towering, 

Monstrous solid cynderblock wall,

and all I could say was,

“This is not a road”

I was a fish judged on how I could climb,

or a cat on their ability to bark.

“There is a wall, I can’t get through,”

I say.

“It’s just a road”

they say.