A poet president sounds good to me

From Michael D Higgins' poem Exiles in his collection, An Arid Season (which you can purchase here >>>):

"An old vision of freedom

From hunger, fear, abuse,

Has faded in the terrible times.

We are invited to forget an old promise

That ours was a world to create.

Out of the depths we cry

We shrink in fear.

Few break the silence.

But then light flickers

In hope

In resolution

We must make our own answer.

Our liberation from the nightmare will come.

Our exile will end,

Not from the making of miracles

But from the strength of will and heart



That we make our own history

With heart and head.

We make our common fate.


We move on and recall

That old promise,

Not rejected,


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