Amanda Gorman, la poeta de 22 años estrella de la investidura de Biden: “El país no está roto, sino simplemente inacabado”

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La joven poeta Amanda Gorman aportó este miércoles fuerza y esperanza a la toma de posesión del presidente Joe Biden, con un emocionante poema que declaró el comienzo de una “era de redención” en Estados Unidos y recordó que “siempre hay luz”, incluso en los momentos más oscuros.

Gorman, de 22 años, conmovió durante más de cinco minutos a los cientos de asistentes a la investidura de Biden, con unos versos en los que trabajó durante semanas pero que no remató hasta después del asalto al Capitolio del 6 de enero, inspirada por la necesidad del país de encontrar consuelo.

“Siempre hay luz, si somos lo suficientemente valientes para verla, si somos lo suficientemente valientes para encarnarla”, dijo Gorman al concluir su poema.

La poeta afroamericana es la más joven que ha recitado un poema en una investidura presidencial en Estados Unidos, y recibió alabanzas casi inmediatas al terminar de recitar su obra, titulada La colina que escalamos.

“Aunque la democracia puede ser periódicamente retrasada, nunca puede ser permanentemente derrotada”, afirmó la que es la primera poeta joven galardonada a nivel nacional de la historia de Estados Unidos.

Gorman tuvo algo de bloqueo creativo cuando escribía su poema hasta que se produjo el ataque al Congreso, cuando vio con claridad el mensaje solemne pero optimista que quería enviar al país, según explicó a varios medios de comunicación.

“Para poner primero nuestro futuro, antes tenemos que dejar de lado nuestras diferencias, dejar las armas para poder alcanzar los brazos de los otros”, subrayó ante el Capitolio, poco después de que Biden pronunciara su primer discurso como presidente.

Su poema sonó como un respiro de alivio tras la Presidencia de Donald Trump, y celebró la entrada en una “era de redención” de “un país que no está roto, sino simplemente inacabado”. “Nunca más sembraremos la división”, afirmó.

La ahora primera dama de Estados Unidos, Jill Biden, fue quien pidió incluir a Gorman en la ceremonia de investidura después de ver un vídeo de una declamación que la joven había realizado en Washington, revela el diario The New York Times.

Gorman creció en Los Ángeles, donde su madre es profesora en una escuela, y enseguida se enamoró de la poesía, escribiendo en diarios en el patio del colegio, hasta que con solo 16 años le dieron el premio a la mejor poeta joven de la ciudad californiana.

“Ahora más que nunca, Estados Unidos necesita un poema inaugural”, dijo Gorman en una entrevista con The New York Times. “La poesía es normalmente la piedra angular a la que volvemos cuando tenemos que recordar la historia sobre la que nos alzamos, y el futuro que defendemos”.

The Hill We Climb (transcripción en inglés)

Mr President, Dr Biden, Madam Vice-President, Mr Emhoff,

Americans and the world,

When day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry asea 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 becoming 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 will 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 her 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’s 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. 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 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-limbed hills of the west. We will rise from the wind-swept north-east where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim 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.