And here we are,
surviving what once was impossible.
The weight of days still presses,
some nights stretch long.
Yet we endure,
step by stumbling step,
even when ground rises to meet us.

We are here,
bruised and scarred,
but breathing.
We have crawled through fires,
dragged ourselves from darkened corners.
Still, here we are,
against odds that whispered wouldn’t be.

We don’t walk this path straight.
We stagger,
we crawl.
But always, we rise,
if only just enough.

And here,
against expectation,
we remain.