I held the rage for all the years,
Of sterile rooms and burning tears.
For every why that met a shrug,
For every useless, futile drug.
They mapped the smoke, they named the ash,
But never questioned what had flashed
To start the deep, internal fire,
That was building this bodies funeral pyre.
But anger is a heavy stone,
A war that’s only fought alone.
A different truth I came to own:
Forgive them. For as they don’t know.
Lost in systems, broken, old and blind,
With knowledge they have yet to find.
To hold the grudge, to need them wrong,
Just keeps the cycle, deep and long;
That turning wheel of ancient hurt
That grinds our spirit in the dirt.
The harm they did is in the past,
A transient shadow, not meant to last.
But this refusal, this desire… It must stop.
Because this is the fuel that feeds the fire.
This healing asks for all the hands,
Across the siloed, separate lands.
The mind’s own guide, to ease the soul,
The surgeon’s knife, to make us whole.
The lab that funds the biologic’s art,
The researcher who maps the chart.
The voice that teaches, clear and true,
We need them all to see this through.
It’s not the new or ancient way,
It’s all the truths that guide the day.
The pill, the plant, the food, the knife,
Must come together, building life.
We hold no single, rigid creed,
We follow where the truth may lead.
We follow where the data goes,
And use all tools the science shows.
Forgiveness is the open door,
The only way to end the war.
The oath is this: “we stand as one,
Until the final battle’s won.”
.