The Spark and the Scaffold
A poem
In a bit of a departure from my normal posts, here is something from me, to you, I based off of my last newsletter here! I’m a bit rusty, so the rhythm could use improvement, but we will call it good enough for now.
The Spark and the Scaffold
A child lifts a rock, her eyes wide with delight,
jumps into a mud puddle, arms up towards the light.
She points, she wonders, she starts to ask why,
and just like that, the questions fly.
From playground mud to microscope slides,
from whispered dreams to clinical trials worldwide.
It starts with a spark—curiosity’s flame,
but it needs more, a scaffold, to earn its name.
That scaffold is science, bold and precise,
done by hands that ask questions, who roll the dice.
Not for fortune, not for fame,
but for hope, and healing, to give things a name.
It’s the grad student running a late-night test,
the biologist studying a cell’s unrest.
It’s the indirect costs that keeps the lights on bright,
the mentor guiding a student to flight.
But dismantle the scaffold, and it all falls apart—
ideas stall, and so does discovery's heart.
The cure that almost made its way to you,
will sit undiscovered, with no new view.
A budget line may seem so small,
but behind it stands the progress of all.
Because illness never checks your vote,
and cancer doesn’t discriminate based on banknotes.
So fund the spark. Flame it high.
Help feed the questions that touch the sky.
Because curiosity starts with one small why,
but science seeks to understand. Science tries.
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So moving, Liz. I could not love this more.