Lament of the Vaxx-Injured
Inspired by Cody and his mother, Heather Hudson, this poem is dedicated to them as well as Brianne Dressen and React19; Real Not Rare; and all the innocents injured, killed, and bereaved by the “safe and effective” injection.
Lament of the Vaxx-Injured
by Margaret Anna Alice
They told us it was safe.
They told us it was effective.
They told us everyone was doing it.
They told us not getting it was selfish.
They told us it was the only way
we could study, work, shop, live.
We listened to them.
Why would they lie to us?
We trusted them.
Why would they hurt us?
And every day since
that irrevocable,
life-shattering decision
has been unrelenting
agony and exhaustion,
apprehension and regret,
uncertainty and dread.
Our lives are now a continuum
of questioning,
of searching,
of testing,
of fretting.
They tell us we’re faking it.
They tell us we’re lying.
They tell us we’re imagining it.
They tell us we’re anxious.
They tell us we’re exaggerating.
They tell us we’re grifting.
And once it’s undeniable—
when the diagnostics show
heart damage,
blood clots,
myocarditis,
pericarditis,
cardiac arrest,
hematologic abnormalities,
impaired immune functionality,
shingles,
Bell’s palsy,
Guillain–Barré syndrome,
autoimmune disease,
multiple sclerosis,
transverse myelitis,
neuropathy,
paralysis,
multi-organ inflammation,
leprosy,
strokes,
dementia,
prion disease,
cerebrovascular disease,
brain damage,
tinnitus,
turbo cancer,
DNA integration,
deep vein thrombosis,
post-vaccination syndrome,
multisystem failure—
then they tell us
they’re baffled.
Then they tell us they don’t
know how to fix it.
Every day, we research
as if our lives depend on it,
because they do.
Because only we
and our loved ones
care enough to save us.
For some, we’re a statistic,
a number on a spreadsheet.
For others, we don’t exist.
They don’t want us to exist.
They refuse to see us,
They refuse to hear us,
They refuse to feel us,
They refuse to help us.
Every minute, we scrape together the strength
to endure the anguish,
to resist the gaslighting,
to seek out supplements,
procedures, practices—
anything that will offer relief,
anything that will soften the suffering,
anything that will delay our terminal diagnosis.
They tell us to shut up.
They tell us not to scare others.
They tell us it is rare.
They tell us it was worth it.
And no one takes responsibility—
not the NGOs that hocus-pocused us,
not the corporations that poisoned us,
not the governments that coerced us,
not the agencies that betrayed us,
not the institutions that mandated us,
not the philanthropaths who targeted us,
not the ideologues who ridiculed us,
not the tyrants who scapegoated us,
not the politicians who maneuvered us,
not the enforcers who penned us,
not the psychologists who manipulated us,
not the propagandists who petrified us,
not the experts who hoodwinked us,
not the scientists who head-faked us,
not the censors who erased us,
not the doctors who pushed us,
not the nurses who needled us,
not the pharmacists who stabbed us.
They call us anti-vaxxers.
But we got jabbed?
They call us conspiracy theorists.
But we believed them?
They call us science-deniers.
But we trusted it?
And now we’re on our own—
without support,
without compensation,
without legal recourse.
Some of us have lost
our jobs,
our insurance,
our babies,
our lives.
They don’t need us anymore.
They don’t want us anymore.
They got what they ordered
… and moved on.
Each twinge of pain
is silver in their pockets.
Each desperate scream
is Musak in their waiting room.
Each vaxxicide
is another piece of evidence
buried.
So that’s why we have to live.
That’s why we have to survive.
That’s why we have to fight.
That’s why we have to wage justice.
We are living proof
of their fraud,
of their cruelty,
of their tyranny.
Chisel our truth into your hearts.
Tattoo our stories onto your arms.
Photograph our faces with your minds.
Testify to our torment.
Testify to their lies.
Testify to their crimes.
See us.
Hear us.
Feel us.
Help us.
Note: This poem focuses on people living with injuries; murder victims will be honored in a separate piece. Meanwhile, you can meet a few of those tragic souls in this satirical article:
A Personal Note
I recently suffered what I thought was the worst pain of my life after injuring my back. Nearly every movement felt like digging around the exposed nerves with a sickle probe. I was finally starting to feel normal again when I re-injured it, and that was the worst pain of my life—to the point that I passed out twice.
I am sharing this not to elicit pity (I’m on the mend and functional again, so please don’t worry) but because it was understanding what the vaxx-injured endure without respite that helped me get through this experience. I specifically thought of Cody while I was crying, moaning, and screaming out the pain. Perhaps you, too, can draw strength from their example in times of crisis, misery, and desperation.
What I am going through is merely temporary. I cannot fathom the fortitude, courage, and resilience it requires to persist despite being bombarded with relentless suffering from multiple illnesses and injuries, with each one triggering a cascade of others.
And yet they use their voices to try to help others heal and avoid the same living torment—even as they are stigmatized, silenced, and gaslit. Nothing compares to the level of self-sacrifice they have embodied since their lives were forever altered.
The vaxx-injured are the heroes of our time. Please make others see, hear, feel, and help them by sharing this poem and supporting Cody, React19, Real Not Rare, and the vaxx-injured individuals in your life.
Cody’s family, for example, is facing potential homelessness because the medical bills have taken nearly everything from them.
I have had the privilege of corresponding with Heather (A mother's anthem) and Cody (Modern Age Critical Reader), and they are two of the bravest, kindest, most resilient individuals I know. They are also fellow bibliophiles and cat-lovers.
This post is long, but I urge you to read it in full. For all they have suffered, the least we can do …
“our dear friends who lost their son sixteen days after his COVID shot showed us a city you had never been to. They always tell me, ‘You have your son. It may be hard, and it isn’t how it should be, but you have your son; he is still alive; our son is gone.’ Knowing how precious each day is for us to have you here, they wanted us to make memories and give you hope, no matter how sick you are. So, they took you to a beautiful Japanese garden that their son, who passed away, used to love to go to with them. You walked slowly and with your cane, holding onto each of us as needed. We took our time and were in the shade. We saw giant Koi, wild iguanas, and Japanese Zen gardens. It was perfect. It was just what you needed. You were shown love and kindness. It took a lot out of you, but we all were there to support you. You desperately needed this kindness. They are a blessing and it is a miracle that they can show kindness even though they suffered such loss.”
A mother's anthem
Congress, the CDC, the FDA, and the HHS have left the vaccine injured in similar legal circumstances to Guantanamo detainees, dehumanized, no rights, no redress, and more. U.S. citizens are abandoned.
∙
Thank you for coming together to support the most vulnerable in our community.
📚 Resources for the Vaxx-Injured
If you received a COVID vaccine and began experiencing unusual health symptoms in the days, months, or years following your injection, you are far from alone. Doctors, scientists, and researchers are working diligently to find solutions. The organizations and articles below offer guidance for mitigating vaxx injuries, support, and additional resources to help the vaxx-injured recover and ultimately heal:
FLCCC Alliance (IRECOVER) (on Substack)
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