'The Hill We Climb' by Amanda Gorman

On Inauguration Wednesday when Joe Biden sworn in to office as the 46th President of the United States of America, and Kamala Harris became Madam Vice-President (the 49th), 22-year-old poet and activist Amanda Gorman read her poem, 'The Hill We Climb' at the ceremony. She was the National Youth Poet Laureate in 2017 and is the youngest poet to read at a Presidential inauguration. 

I enjoyed her reading, her prose, and all that she represented of America. NPR wrote, "Gorman echoed, in dynamic and propulsive verse, the same themes that Biden has returned to again and again and that he wove throughout his inaugural address: unity, healing, grief and hope, the painful history of American experience and the redemptive power of American ideals." This isn't just about Democrats and Republicans anymore. The Trump Presidency is full of tantrums, marked by short-sightedness and churlishness. I watched in horror as American politics degenerated into idiocy, violence, racism and right-wing extremism. 

Her words speak of a new chapter for the nation, and may sanity prevail. The right to protest and carry guns shouldn't mean insurgency, but often, it's violent. Non-stop protests that throw the country in chaos aren't beneficial to any sort of policy change if the incumbent feels threatened or blackmailed. When the Trump supporters stormed the Capitol in Washington DC amid a key Senate vote, we wondered if America would reach civil war. 

The previous Presidency emboldened the Conservatives and far right. The 45th President's words, policies and actions brought all dark thoughts to the surface, manifesting in Karens and Kevins, and many actions perfectly justifiable to certain segments of American society, and perhaps our own too. We're all hopeful for the Presidency to usher in a period of minimal racism and fundamentalist religiosity. These are the final two stanzas of Amanda Gorman's poem at the Inauguration,

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: 

A country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain:

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change, our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

With every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the west.

We will rise from the wind-swept north-east where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked south.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

In every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country, our people, diverse and beautiful, will emerge, battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid.

The new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light,

if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it.