Mankind was made of clay

Each of us in the very same way

                        from “The Very Last Day” by Peter, Paul & Mary

Fingers crossed. The nation holding its breath. Today’s inauguration brought new meaning to the term, “the peaceful transition of power” that up until now, has been one of the hallmarks of this democracy. Rumors and fake tweets about martial law persisted even this morning. What does the outgoing President have in mind we wonder? Will violent extremists somehow get through 25,000 National Guard?

A late entry in our wishful Washington concert was the song “The Very Last Day” written by Peter, Paul & Mary and recorded by Pam Mark Hall with a guest appearance by Peter Yarrow. It’s a song from the 1960s that brings the judgment of God to bear upon the need for human and civil rights. “Everybody gonna pray on the very last day when they hear that bell ring the world away.” And though this is most likely not the very last day, we can certainly use plenty of prayer today as this transition so far has been tumultuous. Everybody needs to pray. And keep on praying.

And for our Catch today, I am printing a transcript of the original poem, “The Hill We Climb,” by Amanda Gorman, America’s first youth poet laureate (she’s only 22-years-old) read by her at today’s Inauguration. From what we understand, it was freshly written to include the unrest at our Capitol building, two weeks ago. Click on the title to see a video of her delivering the poem and click on the title of Peter, Paul & Mary’s song to hear Pam Mark Hall’s version of it.

The Hill We Climb

by Amanda Gorman

Mr. President, Dr. Biden,

Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff,

Americans and the world,

When day comes we ask ourselves

Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry

A sea we must wade.

We’ve braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace.

In the norms and notions of what just is

Isn’t always justice.

And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation

That isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country

And a time where a skinny black girl

Descended from slaves

And raised by a single mother

Can dream of becoming president

Only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished,

Far from pristine,

But that doesn’t mean

We are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures,

Colors,

Characters,

and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gazes

Not to what stands between us,

But what stands before us.

We close the divide

Because we know to put our future first,

We must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms

So we can reach out our arms

To one another.

We seek harm to none

And harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired,

We tried that will forever be tied together victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat,

But because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision

That everyone shall sit under their own vine

And fig tree

And no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to her own time,

Then victory won’t lie in the blade,

But in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade,

The hill we climb if only we dare.

It’s because being American

Is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation

Rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying Democracy.

This effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed,

It can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth,

In this faith we trust

For while we have our eyes on the future,

History has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared it at its inception.

We did not feel prepared

To be the heirs of such a terrifying hour,

But within it,

We found the power

To author a new chapter,

To offer hope and laughter

To ourselves

So while once we asked,

How could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

Now we assert,

How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

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 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 gold-limbed hills of the West.

We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast

Where our forefathers first realized

Revolution.

We will rise from the Lake Rim 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.