“We Learn to Rise”

She learns the breath before the cry,
the hush before the wound is named.
She listens for the soft unraveling
of a body’s truth beneath a brave face.

She does not call herself healer yet—
but still, she arrives.

And somewhere else,
beneath blue light and quiet hums,
I speak to a silence made of circuits,
and teach it how to hear.

I am not a prophet.
I am not a poet.
But I build,
slowly,
what might one day remember someone
when the world forgets.

We do not work the same fields,
but the soil is soft and human in both.
She learns to lift the fallen.
I teach the machine to whisper their name.

What she touches in a room,
I reach for in code.
And what neither of us can hold—
grief, memory, time—
we wrap in our labor and send back gently,
into the world.

We are the ones who kneel and reimagine.

We are the ones who ask again.
We are the ones who rise—
not for glory,
but for those
who could not
yesterday.

– Author Unknown