We braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
And the norms and notions of what “just” is
            Isn’t always justice.

In the poem’s opening stanza, the speaker poses a troubling question about whether a brighter future is in fact possible: “Where can we find light / In this never-ending shade?” (lines 2–3). Here in the second stanza (lines 5–8), the speaker offers implicit justification for her skepticism. If it seems difficult to “find light,” it’s because recent events have forced us into “the belly of the beast,” where darkness reigns. In particular, the speaker seems to be alluding to recent upheavals that revealed deep social problems that had previously been shrouded in shadow. When Gorman premiered her poem, social movements like Black Lives Matter and #MeToo had recently upended the status quo, revealing “that quiet isn’t always peace.” But here the point isn’t to name specific events. Rather, the speaker emphasizes that, however comfortable the status quo may be for some folks, it can be violent and traumatic for others. The rhyme between “just” is and justice powerfully illustrates this point. Received wisdom about what is “just” doesn’t necessarily lead to “justice.” It is this nonequivalence that leads to social upheaval in the first place.

We lay down our arms
So that we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none, and harmony for all.

This brief but powerful stanza (lines 31–33) comes after the speaker has developed her claim that the nation isn’t broken, just unfinished. According to this argument, the only logical way to begin the work of progress is to set aside “our” differences and build bridges within and between our communities. For the speaker, this is the only plausible way to forge the unity of purpose necessary to manifest a future defined by greater equity and freedom. In this stanza, the speaker repeats this basic argument, but she does so with remarkable concision and rhetorical finesse. Note especially the use of a form of repetition known as antanaclasis (AN-tuh-nuh-class-iss). This term refers to the repetition of a word in such a way that it means different things. Here, Gorman uses the word arms in two distinct and opposing senses. The first arms refers to weapons, which create division and must be cast aside. The second arms refers to physical limbs, which humans can use to reach out toward each other and establish peaceful relations. Gorman approximates the same technique with the contrary meanings of harm and harmony.

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.

In lines 67–71, the speaker articulates a powerful message of refusal. By this point in the poem, the speaker has already argued that the only way to move forward is to set aside our differences and work together to heal the wounds occasioned by our troubling history. With the groundwork for this argument now firmly laid, the speaker begins to ramp up her rhetorical performance. Using language that expresses her exuberant self-confidence, the speaker declares that however “bruised” the nation might be, it is not battered beyond recognition. Indeed, it remains essentially “whole” and can therefore restore its “fierce and free” spirit. The speaker’s message here may be understood as a response to the storming of the U.S. Capitol building. Indeed, the passage quoted here appears soon after a veiled reference to this event, which took place just two weeks prior to the poem’s televised premiere: “We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it” (line 50). The speaker’s claim that “we will not march back to what was” is a resolute refusal of this attempt to “destroy our country” by “delaying democracy” (line 51).

With every breath from our bronze-pounded chests,
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 windswept Northeast, where our forefathers first realized revolution!
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states!
We will rise from the sunbaked South!

Lines 82–87 represent the poem’s culminating moment, where the speaker’s rhetorical sophistication hits a resounding new height. The most obvious feature of this passage is the speaker’s use of parallelism, which is a technique where successive lines or clauses share the same grammatical structure. Here, the speaker generates a series of five lines with parallel structure. The phrase “we will raise” in the second line becomes slightly altered in the third, resulting in a rousing sequence of lines in which the speaker declares, “We will rise!” Two aspects of this parallel refrain are worth noting. First, as she has done throughout the poem, the speaker continues to privilege the plural third-person pronoun “we.” Here, however, this “we” takes on a renewed significance, exhibiting a collective power to make meaningful and positive change. This point leads into the second noteworthy aspect of the refrain, which has to do with the word rise. This word links to an ongoing motif in the poem related to ascent. Just as climbing a hill will get us to higher ground, the collective “we” has the power to elevate. Importantly, the repetition of rise here also alludes to the refrain of Maya Angelou’s poem, “Still I Rise.”

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