Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds. Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

 Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds.
Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

Discordant Note

Scratching, floating

Hanging in the air

 

 

Pressure ebbs and flows 

Headpiece filled with straw

 

 

A twisted melody lingers

Confusion and rage entwined 

Resentment's bitter sting

Wrestles with sorrow's whine

 

 

Innocence stolen, trust shattered

By hands meant to protect

 

 

The child within still bleeds

Silently searching, begging for respect 

 

 

Justice denied, our secrets buried

Master manipulator 

A monster cloaked in lies

 

 

Crimes still hidden 

Despite Death's hand

Too late for tortured cries

 

 

Feet of clay now returned to dust

From whence they darkly came

Leaving behind a tangled mess

Of trauma, grief and shame 

 

 

The urge to desecrate, destroy

Wage war upon their grave

Wrestling with guilt, pity and relief 

Yes, he is no more

But I am not yet saved

 

 

This victory feels hollow 

An unearned, empty gift

When wounds still pulse and throb

No closure, the burdens unshift 

 

 

 

I imagine looking for the tombstone,

Fists and soul clenched tight,

Anger, disgust, and rage.

 

 

Shadows cast doubt over my morals,

Compass dysfunctional, truth estranged.

Like Basque tongues tangled with Ainu clicks,

A labyrinth of questions ethics inflicts.

 

 

No tears of mourning shed

No idea the monster was laid to rest

Three years later, a happy accident

Release a demon locked deep in my chest

 

 

How to reconcile the little child

Who needed love and care

With the person now made to carry

This discordant note hanging in the air

 

 

In the depths of this discordance 

Frustration and confusion still rise

Dare I confront the shadows

Curse their peaceful demise?

 

 

Every anguished scream swallowed 

Each day, coerced, suffocated in silence

Transmuting years of buried aches

Why not release in rightful fierce violence?

 

 

Through serpentine paths of healing

Piece by shattered piece remade,

Scars shimmering with untold stories 

Of battles braved and traumas mourned

 

 

In owning all that was endured

By innocent hands and shattered trust

Languidly learning to cradle, soothe

My inner child waiting, weeping in the dust

 

 

Each breath is an act of bravery

Every step is defiant, resolute 

Reclaiming fractured narratives

No longer voiceless or mute

Through my poetry, I find release

May its rhythm grant me peace.

 

 

This journey from victim to victor

Is paved with shards of broken self

Reassembled by courageous hands

Into mosaics of pain and health 

 

 

A symphony of survival

Echoes in the spaces in between

I cannot rewrite my cruel history 

I yearn like others to live and dream

 

 

Beyond the reach of phantom hands

That sought to break and steal and mar

I rise in revolutionary softness

Tempered by battles, reminded by scars

 

 

The discordant note, a stubborn seed, 

Resists the soil, its tyranny decreed, 

Yet woven slow, within the larger frame, 

An ostinato may conquer its shame, 

Finds solace in the weave, a timeless plea, 

Echoing Eliot, Stravinsky rewrites history. 

 

 

"Primum non nocere," a principle profound,

 

Not rigid law, but wisdom found.

 

In healing's halls, where choices weigh,

 

It guides the hand, but doesn't sway.

 

 

 

"ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν," a balanced plea,

 

"To benefit, or harm not," complexity's key.

 

Not black and white, but shades between,

 

Where modern medicine's challenges are seen.

 

 

The caduceus gleams, oft misunderstood,

 

While Asclepius' staff stands where healing stood.

 

Symbols twisted, meanings blurred,

 

Yet ethical practice remains undeterred.

 

 

In sterile rooms where decisions loom,

 

Doctors and patients dispel the gloom.

 

They weigh the risks, consider gain,

 

In partnership, to ease the pain.

 

 

 

Some peddle falsehoods, sweet and bright,

 

While truth seeks haven in the night.

 

But evidence-based practice stands tall,

 

Against deception's siren call.

 

 

"Primum nil nocere," evolving still,

 

Not perfection, but good faith's will.

 

To strive for best, while harm to shun,

 

In healing's never-ending run.

 

 

 

In research labs and by bedsides true,

 

Ethical minds seek what to do.

 

Through trials tested, with knowledge bright,

 

They pierce the veil of health's long night.

 

 

 

"To benefit, or harm not," the true decree,

 

A beacon burning, for all to see.

 

Not simple maxim, but complex art,

 

Where science meets the human heart.

 

 

With shared trust, respect held high,

 

Patient and healer together try

 

To chart a course through health's dark sea,

 

With ethics as their guiding key.

 

         "Primum non nocere," oft misapplied,

 

Not absolute, but a principle to guide.

 

In Hippocrates' time and modern day,

 

It's context and intent that hold sway.

 

 

 

The Greek, "ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν," rings true,

 

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," anew.

 

A nuanced approach, not black and white,

 

Balancing risks in healing's light.

 

 

 

The caduceus twined, with wings so bright,

 

A symbol of commerce, not healing's might.

 

Asclepius' staff, with serpent alone,

 

The true emblem of medicine, long known.

 

 

 

In modern clinics, where science reigns,

 

Ethical practice carefully maintains

 

A balance 'twixt benefit and potential harm,

 

With patient's values central to this charm.

 

 

 

Open communication, a cornerstone strong,

 

Where patient and doctor, together belong.

 

In shared decisions, they navigate

 

The complex paths that health dictate.

 

 

 

Some may twist ethics for selfish gain,

 

But true healers strive to ease pain.

 

With evidence-based practice as their guide,

 

They stand against misinformation's tide.

 

 

 

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," evolves still,

 

Not perfection, but good faith's will.

 

From rigorous study, and trials so keen,

 

True healing emerges, complex yet clean.

 

 

 

In healing's art, there's no guarantee,

 

But ethical practice sets conscience free.

 

With care and skill, and wisdom's light,

 

We navigate health's day and night.

 

 

 

Πρῶτον μὴ βλάπτειν, a principle misunderstood,

 

Not black and white, but shades of good.

 

Where healing's art meets science's light,

 

And ethical minds must choose what's right.

 

 

 

The caduceus gleams, a symbol misconstrued,

 

Where commerce and care are often viewed.

 

But Asclepius' staff, with single snake entwined,

 

Represents true healing, carefully refined.

 

 

 

In modern halls where choices weigh,

 

Doctors and patients find their way.

 

Through risks and benefits, they navigate,

 

Shared understanding they cultivate.

 

 

 

Some peddle cures with hollow claims,

 

Exploiting fears for selfish aims.

 

But true healers, with knowledge sound,

 

On evidence their practice ground.

 

 

 

"Primum nil nocere," a guide, not chain,

 

Encouraging thought in health's domain.

 

Balance sought 'twixt act and pause,

 

For healing's not without its flaws.

 

 

 

In research labs and by bedsides too,

 

Ethical minds seek what is true.

 

Through trials tested, their wisdom grows,

 

A beacon bright as knowledge flows.

 

 

 

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, the call remains,

 

For those who heal, not those who feign.

 

In partnership with those they treat,

 

They strive to make care more complete.

 

Today’s blessing is another reminder 

of a lesson we should have learned in school

How the strongest among us are gentle

while the weakest among us are cruel.