In the Rotunda where once
Lincoln and Kennedy lay in state
rioters carrying confederate flags
spat in the eyes of democracy.
He craved power.
The flames of sedition
lit by a crowd
dangerously devoted to him.
They were beaten. He is beaten.
Power is with the poet.
She is America.
With tears in their eyes an audience
weary of division and hate heard
her poem, a poem of inspiration
a poem of democracy.
Transfixed, past Presidents Clinton, Bush, Obama
and President Biden were as one
enthralled by the poet’s dignity.
Her words of harmony and of endeavour.
Donald Trump’s strength weakened
left by the back door
for the sun of Palm Beach.
The golf courses of Florida.
The poet’s poem the Hill We Climb
spoke to the American promise – her promise;
With every breath from my bronze- pounded
chest, we will raise this wounded world into
a wondrous one.
By Joy Johnson, Unite political department