Water

I ripple soft, but carry weight—

A tidal force, though they underestimate.

They say I’m fluid, weak, inconstant—

But I adapt, I flow, I’m persistent.

Like those who roll instead of walk,

We still move forward, still make waves—

Let them talk.

Fire

They call me too wild, too much, too loud,

A danger to control, never allowed.

But I’ve seen souls burn with silent strength,

Who light the dark, no matter the length.

Some tremble when they hear my name,

Yet those with speech that stumbles still ignite just the same.

Earth

I am slow. They think I sleep.

But I am the roots that grow down deep.

Steady, still, yet holding all—

Even those who stumble, fall.

Some call us grounded, heavy, plain,

But we carry mountains, endure pain.

Disability is not defeat—

It is surviving under siege, and still being complete.

Air

You cannot see me, but I am there,

Like unseen battles people bear.

I swirl in silence, dance in storm,

Invisible doesn’t mean I’m not formed.

Like minds that drift or bodies that ache,

There’s strength in every breath we take.

Don’t mistake quiet for lack of might—

I am wind, I am voice, I am flight.

Together

We are not broken, we are change—

Different rhythms, not so strange.

We speak for those who aren’t always heard,

Who write new paths with every word.

If we are elements, bold and free—

Then so are you. You’re just like we.