"Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit"
What does these stanzas from On the Pulse of Morning mean? Please help me
You need to put it in context with what is before and around, and what follows.
Folks all around the world have suffered oppression, violence, hunger usually caused by countries ran for the profit of few, and the words are inviting the victims to come to a refuge away from all that, and live in peace.
Ms. Angelou is talking about war that is a result of greed.
On The Pulse Of Morning - Poem by Maya Angelou
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The , the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers-
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours- your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
The stanzas you've mentioned are lines from the poem "On the Pulse of Morning" written by Maya Angelou, which she recited at the inauguration of President Bill Clinton in 1993. These lines can be interpreted as a critique of the endless pursuit of profit and power, which often leads to conflict and division.
To understand the meaning of these stanzas in depth, let's break them down:
"Yet thrusting perpetually under siege."
The word "yet" signifies a contradiction or opposition to something that has been mentioned before. In this context, it suggests that despite the progress made by humanity, we are still constantly engaged in conflict or struggle. The phrase "thrusting perpetually" conveys the idea of continuous motion or action, highlighting the never-ending nature of our battles.
"Your armed struggles for profit."
Here, Angelou comments on the motives behind our perpetual conflicts: the pursuit of profit. She suggests that the struggles and battles we face are often driven by the desire for economic gain and material wealth. By using the phrase "armed struggles," she metaphorically connects these conflicts to warfare, emphasizing the intensity and destructive nature of the pursuit of profit.
Overall, these stanzas shed light on the ongoing struggles in society caused by our unchecked pursuit of profit at the expense of peace and harmony. Maya Angelou, through her poetic language, highlights the need for reflection and change in order to achieve a more balanced and just society.