And so we wait.

Everything's already been said, we just have to see what our fellow Americans think of it all, at this point.

Because I could think of nothing to write to add to this day, I instead reached back to the best wordsmith of our time and what she had to say after the previous election. What follows is the poem read by Amanda Gorman at the inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, on January 20th, 2021.

I will add as my only commentary: We're still striving to climb that hill, obviously.

[Technical Note: I could not find an "official" version of this poem, by which I mean a version with the line breaks and punctuation approved by the poet herself. So I went with one version of it I found online (which only had one typo to fix), because I think these line breaks accurately capture the cadence in which Gorman read her poem that day.]

-- Chris Weigant

The Hill We Climb

-- Amanda Gorman

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 being 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 we'll 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 our 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.
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.
And 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 the 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-limned hills of the West.
We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed 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.

Follow Chris on Twitter: @ChrisWeigant