Let’s turn our pain to power.
The world’s wounds into wisdom.
The sometimes haunting silence,
Into the beautiful rhythm and beat,
Of 8 billion dancing feet
Our grief, our flame,
Human fears and sense of shame.
The violence and wars,
Shit stirring and closing of doors.
The rise of hate where love once shone.
We feel it—don’t we?
Be it across the sea or close to home.
The weight of the world.
The ache in our bones,
The rage left unfurled.
But we are not broken.
We are breaking systems open.
Like the cracks in the concrete,
Where truth is spoken.
We are not just watchers,
Not just the bruised.
We are builders, bakers,
Believers, creators,
Tending and making,
The future that is possible.
We are not what they tell us—
Not just numbers, or votes.
We are many voices singing,
The choir and the key notes.
We are neighbours and healers,
We are gardeners and a friendly face.
We are story-tellers and poets,
We are holding our place.
We are not waiting for saviours,
Or kings in disguise.
No, we are rising in great numbers
With fire in our belly and hope in our eyes.
We are stitching up the tears,
With love as the thread.
We are feeding every hunger
And raising every head.
We pour our hearts into our making,
Our soul into our bread.
We lead with compassion,
Not fear or control.
We are building a new future.
Where everyone’s whole.
Together,
We are turning our pain to our power.
Collective wounds to shared wisdom.
And silence and fear,
Into the sweet rhythm and beat,
Of 8 billion dancing feet.
Because this is our moment—
To stand, to begin.
To fight not with fists,
But with love from within.
Together, we’ll Mend, Tend,
And Change the Future.
For our Superpower,
Is our Unity and Community.
Eve Holt 