This is the year we made decisions and gripped them
strongly as if they were palms
of someone else’s hands
even if they were the wrong kind. We stood
by them; no — we stood by us, and stayed still
until the tides rushed through
and it was over
but we’re not.

This is the year when we looked up the sky and swore,
“I’ll get there,” truly, then made ladders
out of wood and out of paper, whatever
our hands grab onto. Sometimes, none
but we kept going
and building
and climbing
until we had one foot forward
And that is where we begin again.

This the year when you have come; yes,
in a red cape and crown, a carpet laid
There is no welcome party but your shoes
are tapping, you’re ready to dance.
The world doesn’t know it yet, but you have come. And tomorrow,
again.
So wear you crown; don’t leave yourself behind.
Come.