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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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