All of which being why I'm not going to hold Barack's snubbing me against him, and will write him an Inauguration poem anyway, one that he can either a) sigh over in the privacy of the White House or b) use in 2012. Hey, everyone else is doing it, so why can't I? Here goes:
No, History does not march,
it endures.
Stumbles from door to door
seeking a place to hide,
survives from year to year
like an animal in flight
from its own shadow,
from the damage it leaves in its wake.
And yet there are times –
just before daybreak, say,
or coming over a ridge –
when its sees the road stretch away
into the distance,
and forgets to be afraid;
times when it pauses, inhales,
and with a slight lift
of its shoulders, prepares
to face what’s ahead.
You're welcome, Barack. And best of luck. You're going to need it.
Update: Here's the text of Elizabeth Alexander's poem from this morning. And here's a video of her reading.
1 comment:
That was simply lovely.
Thank you.
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