The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth

By: Samantha Syrnich TLC

At exactly 4 a.m., Friday, August 8th,
I awoke in the fragile stillness of early morning. My eyes were not yet fully open when a soft piano chord rose from the quiet, followed by the unmistakable, captivating voice of Lauren Spencer Smith singing “Pray.”

It felt less like a song chosen at random and more like a message sent to me—precisely for me—in the midst of my ongoing fight to forgive those who have caused me deep harm. This county where I was born has become a place I must escape if I am to live a life of abundance, fulfill my dreams, and complete the missions placed in my heart by divine grace. And yet, while I remain here—amid systems that fail the very people they claim to protect, institutions with wealth that turn their backs on human suffering, and the cold apathy of those who worship their monies instead of the lives around them while professing Christianity—hypocrisy—I fight daily to forgive.

Forgiveness, for me, is not casual. It is survival. It is the key to living without bitterness despite medical abuses, negligence, and the domestic terrorism that forced me from the only home I had for a decade. It is the key to continuing without the comfort of my federally recognized service Borzoi, Blossom of Snow—my Edelweiss—whose absence is a wound I feel every day and night.

I live now without stability, denied basic human dignities, without the comfort of a place where my body can finally rest and heal. I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs. I work—unpaid—often to the limits of my health despite it all. And yet, I am still treated as a burden—by a family and community who could ease my suffering, but choose not to.

The cruelty reached its sharpest edge when, recovering on life support after my own death, I overheard them wish it had been me who died instead of my big brother—my beloved brother, who was pushed to his limits by bad medical that paralyzed and harmed him so severely he saw no way out but to take his own life. They admitted to grievous harm in his case posthumously and paid his widow and child. They will not admit to grievous harms in my case, and the death they caused in me was not followed by justice—only revival on life support. That was after my brother was gone, but before more abuses by the same medical institution—abuses so recent and severe that I do not know how long I will have left to live as I strive to overcome this latest attempt on my life.

The question still echoes: Why are some lives deemed valuable, and others not? I carry the survivor’s guilt like a second skin. Accepting the answers is a burden I resist.

And so, when Lauren’s voice sang:

“Darling, I pray for ya… Wherever you go, I want you to know that I pray,”

it was as if the song cradled my weary spirit and whispered, Keep going.

When she offered in lyric:

“I’ll always have grace for ya, I’ll take the pain for ya,”

I felt the deep resonance of what it means to choose grace—not because it’s easy, but because my soul demands it if I’m to survive.

Her voice is not simply beautiful—it is luminous with sincerity, capable of holding both sorrow and release in the same breath. The sparse piano and tender arrangement leave space for every word to land directly in the heart.

I have endured cruelty that most will never imagine, and yet, I wake each day thankful for another chance to work toward my mission: to finish my books, bring my film into the world, and create a legacy that outlives me and blesses others. I dream of a day when I can live in a safe home, heal, travel to see the cultures of the world, meet good and decent humans, and know what it is to be cherished before I die.

Above all, I long to be reunited with my Edelweiss, Blossom of Snow—my graceful, loyal companion whose very presence is medicine for my soul.

This morning, “Pray” reminded me that forgiveness is not weakness—it is strength in its most unshakable form.

And though my boundaries remain firm and my trust guarded, I will not let bitterness claim my heart.

For now, I carry the refrain with me like a blessing:

“Wherever you go… I pray.”

And I pray—for myself, for those I love, for those who wronged me, for the voiceless, for the ones with no home, and for the chance to complete the work I was sent back from death to do. Today I pray not only for these things, but for my children, my grand-babies, for Veterans who need healing, for whistleblowers like me who take hits regularly and are denied federal whistleblower protections, for the safety of the children of this broken world, and for the beloved orphans in Africa—including my namesake, TLC. My life is an unseen miracle, and every day I remain is another chance to turn that miracle into something that will outlast me.

Pray
Lauren Spencer Smith
Official Video:
https://youtu.be/Qcm30ftquCI?si=p79chbl-1zSTP4K0