They scratched the words into vellum,
But left the meaning subject to change.
These foundations were laid in liberty,
Yet fortified by their chattel in chains.
Our fathers, despite their wisdom,
Got so much of it wrong.
But at least they had foresight
To permit rewrites as the years grew long.
Of the people—
Those who aren’t walking in fear,
With nothing to lose at this new turning.
And those denied a voice,
Unable to name their yearning.
By the people—
Especially those whose hands
Built this house,
Whose voices rise and fall,
Yet no water is offered for their parched mouth.
For the people—
For the ones who pray
In tongues unknown to our fathers.
And for the ones keeping step with drummers
Unfamiliar, and even for those who don’t bother.
A promise kept to only some
Is a betrayal to those who’ve swum
Against currents to make this society
Safe and rewarding for both you and me.
Of the people.
By the people.
For the people.
All of them.
