A Found Poem from Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton

There’s a million things we haven’t done, God,
yet, it’s the one thing that we do do where we wind up dead.
Help us to rise up
and not throw away our shot
to tell a story of today, tonight and tomorrow
to look around
and be reminded of your love.
We bleed and retreat when it gets difficult,
helpless and never satisfied.
If there’s a reason we are still alive
may we wait for it
to continue to stay alive
even when counting one to ten could mean our death.
If only it would be enough
to turn the world upside down
and have history turn its eyes on us.
Dear God, what to say to you?
Do we keep writing day and night
like it’s going out of style?
And missing the moments that become movements?
Winning is easy, figuring life out is harder.
And, oh, to take a break!
Give us the strength to say, No, to this:
We don’t have to be in the room where it happens.
It is enough to have God on our side,
and one last time
to sit under our own vine and fig tree.
One less thing to worry about
can make it all burn
and then to try to do the unimaginable:
to put it all back together again.
With forgiveness. Can you imagine!
When all is said and all is done,
give us the belief that
to put down our gun
and to say
the world is wide enough
for all of us.
For we all live
and we all die
asking,
Who tells our story?

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