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"During COVID, we've all been kept out of things. Gorman's poem eloquently lists many of the things we've been kept out of. Then she wrote - "Kept o… - Amanda Gorman
"During COVID, we've all been kept out of things. Gorman's poem eloquently lists many of the things we've been kept out of. Then she wrote -
"Kept out of,
kept in,
kept from,
kept behind,
kept below,
kept down.
Kept without life.
Some were asked to walk a fraction of our exclusion for a year and it almost destroyed all they thought they were.
Yet here we are. Still Walking. Still kept.
To be kept to the edges of existence is the inheritance of the marginalized.
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About Amanda Gorman
Amanda Gorman (born 7 March 1998) is an American poet and social activist. She published the poetry book The One for Whom Food Is Not Enough in 2015, and became the first National Youth Poet Laureate in 2017. She studied sociology at Harvard College, and graduated cum laude as a member of Phi Beta Kappa. She received worldwide attention with her recitation of her poem "The Hill We Climb" written for the inauguration of US President Joe Biden.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Amanda S. C. Gorman
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Additional quotes by Amanda Gorman
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.
The Hill We Climb (2020)
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COMPASS This year the size of a sea Sick to its stomach. Like a page, we are only legible When opened to one another. For what is a book If not foremost a body, Waiting & wanting — Yearning to be whole, Full of itself. This book is full Of ourselves. The past is one Passionate déjà vu, One scene already seen. In history’s form, we find our own faces, Recognizable but unremembered, Familiar yet forgotten. Please. Do not ask us who we are. The hardest part of grief Is giving it a name. The pain pulls us apart, Like lips about to speak. Without language nothing can live At all, let alone Beyond itself. Lost as we feel, there is no better Compass than compassion. We find ourselves not by being The most seen, but the most seeing. We watch a toddler Freewheel through warm grass, Not fleeing, just running, the way rivers do, For it is in their unfettered nature. We smile, our whole face cleared By that single dazzling thing. How could we not be altered.
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