On The Pulse Of Morning by Maya Angelou

[Silver]

This was delivered 1/20/93 at the Inauguration of President Clinton and I will not forget it, especially the last few lines.

On The Pulse Of Morning

by Maya Angelou

American Poet
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
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.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
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.

[Wolfe of Wildwood]

I love this poem! I have it somewhere, it's amazing! (it's lost somewhere under my mound of books) Love that someone posted it here, most people don't even seem to know who maya angelou is. I went to see her speak once, that was awesome.

[Silver]

She is quite a wonderful human being. I remember watching Prez. Clinton's inauguration on TV and listened to all of her poem, I couldn't wrench myself away if I tried. When she got to the end, I was so blown away.

When I read her book "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," I cried so. It was the heaviest little book I ever read.

[Wolfe of Wildwood]

ya, I cried a couple of times during that one, but I did not see the poem performed, cause I am only 15 and not sure that I was even alive then. when was he presedent? (terrible with history/polotics)

[Silver]

President Clinton 1993 to 2001 (2 terms).

I've always been horrible at history, too. My mom was into it and so was my son, I envy them! The best I could do now is to memorize the presidents and their terms I guess, but will that happen, not likely, LOL.

[Wolfe of Wildwood]

that ok, I don't even know most of the presidents, with no intention of learning. (can remember numbers but not names, unless they're interesting like the usernames on this site)

[forevergirl]

Thanks for sharing, I love the inspiration I get from Maya