The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
---Maya Angelou, Clinton Inaugural Poem, 1993
It isn't every day that we get a real chance at being protagonists in the making of history. But, after these many years, and much, much hardship, today is that day.
I ask that you look deeply into the eyes of strangers, citizens you will never see again, and seek what is in their eyes. Be proud to be who you are, strong in what you believe. Remember what this feels like... to stand for something bigger than yourself.
May today's events stand for a long time in history as a day that transformed America and the world. And may all people around the world find such a process for transferring power from one group to another as we have in America.
Let me say this: after calling likely Democratic voters here in Wisconsin, I am heartened by the level and intensity of support for Barack Obama. These are rural people, white folk, generally lower income. Sarah Palin thinks these people worship her altar.
But, they got one thing straight in their mind. Whether they can pronounce Barack's name, or explain his positions. There is no way they are going to vote for John McCain over the flappy eared, skinny, well-spoken African-American senator from Illinois.
No way. No how.
Not today. Not now.
I heard it with my own ears. The anger and the energy is palpable. The desire is great.
It is truly amazing that on this one day, all of America focuses on a single, common concern: who to lead us, and in what fundamental direction, as a nation.
Now, I've been wrong before.
In 1980, in my first effort at voting, I felt that the long lines I was seeing in Burlington, Vermont were ushering in a second term for Jimmy Carter, a president I admired.
And, in 1994, I thought that Americans were ready to substantiate the Clinton tilt by giving him a better working majority in Congress.
So, I've been wrong. My political pulse sometimes exceeds the mean of the majority.
But, as long as I'm alive I'd rather believe in dreams than end up imprisoned by fear. For once, America has the opportunity to choose something momentous, authentic and change-worthy.
"Power never concedes" as Frederick Douglass famously stated. And true. We have to take it away, whether with cutlasses and swords, or by canvassing in wards.
We have, at long last, I believe, worked, and suffered, and fought, and organized, and volunteered, and in so doing, convinced enough Americans of good will to arrive at a place that we have won the presidency with a person of color and established solid majorities in Congress.
What a long time in the wilderness of America's history. This may not be paradise, but if you look over there, on that hill, you just might be able to see it from here:
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
May God Bless us this day, and this wonderful moment in American history!