The Poet

Let a hundred lights ring out.
Let them ring out
For the mending hearts, beat by beat,
For the shattered bones, now straightened,
For the troubled minds, now soothed.

Let a hundred fires burn.
Let them burn
For the crippled limbs, now working,
For the pus lungs, now cleansed,
For the spirits which drain the poisonous
Sugars from our blood.

Let a hundred candles be lit.
Let them be lit
For the angels who nurse the ill,
For the scientific lights that grow from year to year.
Let the candles glow brighter each year.
Let them glow for our compassion;
For without compassion,
We have nothing.

Let a hundred tears flow.
Let them flow for the shame
That it took over 100 years
For our clear sky to become a rainbow of colors.
Let them flow for the shame
That it took over 100 years
For women to hold up one half the sky.
Let a hundred tears flow,
Let them flow
For the years of sorrow
When all men were not treated equally.

Let one hundred applauses ring out.
Let them ring out
For those who scrubbed the floors,
For the maids who made the beds,
For the cooks who served the meals.
For without them,
There would be no one hundred years.

Let a hundred flowers bloom.
Let them bloom for the birth of the new.
Let them bloom for the death of the old.
Let the flowers bloom for those who heal the ill.
But above all, let the flowers bloom
For those who are healed

Let a hundred stars shine.
Let them shine out
For the foods flowing through our veins,
Let them shine out for the surgeons,
Cutting and sewing through mirrors.
Let them shine out for the healers
Who labor from sunset through sundown.
But above all, let the stars shine out
For one hundred years of caring;
For without caring,
We have nothing.

Let the lights ring out.
Let the candles blaze forth.
Let the fires burn in celebration.
Let us celebrate 100 years of mending;
So that we can mend the hearts for another 100 years.