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    Broken and defiant
    We are the wounded healers
    It is not our wounds that bind us
    It is the path that we have chosen
    Our collectiveness reveals our strength
    A hoard of injured beings
    We lend our stories and our ears
    The healing starts and so do tears
    Some limp and give their hands to hold
    Some have no hands but counsel
    Some cannot stand but hear and nod
    Some crawl and weep so fragile
    Our woundedness we let it go
    In time it dissipates
    We stand among the others
    Our sisters and our brothers

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