Across The Hours, We Rise Together Poem by Gregory Grinham

In the quiet before dawn in Australia,
your voices reach me like lanterns on the water—
steady, warm, unbroken—
a fellowship that travels farther than miles.

Seattle's rain‑washed mornings
meet my wide Australian skies,
and somewhere between them
our hearts learn the same rhythm of healing.

You offer love without condition,
friendship without hesitation,
and joy that feels earned,
not borrowed.

Your collective wisdom is a shoreline—
I arrive with my storms,
and you meet me with calm,
reminding me I am not alone.

Each share is a compass point,
each story a lighthouse,
each truth spoken aloud
a small miracle of courage.

Support flows like a tide—
sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce,
but always returning,
always lifting.

And yes, the time zones fight us—
your evening is my tomorrow,
your sunrise my mid-night—
but connection refuses to obey clocks.

I show up bleary‑eyed,
you show up caffeinated,
and somehow we meet in the middle
of something sacred.

Together we stitch new patterns
from old wounds,
turning pain into purpose,
and longing into belonging.

Across oceans, across hours,
across the strange geometry of recovery,
we rise—
not perfectly, but together.