One century scarce perform'd its destined round, 

When Gallic powers Columbia's fury found; 

And so may you, whoever dares disgrace 

The land of freedom's heaven-defended race! 

Fix'd are the eyes of nations on the scales, 

For in their hopes Columbia's arm prevails. 

 

Excerpt from “His Excellency General Washington” by Phillis Wheatley 

 

Columbia, 

we have forsaken you. 

Left you to footnotes  

in this convoluted novel. 

Replaced you for the old men, 

the government over the nation’s people. 

Their demands for your embrace. 

Your Phrygian cap 

for circus top hat. 

Your shield, 

clutched bouquet of olive and laurel 

for a rolled sleeve and fist. 

A goddess toppled for a man. 

 

Columbia, 

we have done wrong by your daughters. 

The girls you fought to raise right, 

that you taught to nurture and to stand for good. 

We first tipped and toggled with Justice’s scales, 

then we ripped them from her grip. 

Didn’t just leave the blindfold, 

but bagged her head instead— 

a muzzle and 

deaf to the cries of her nation. 

We have burned Liberty on her stage, 

extinguished her light. 

Broken her promise, 

and robbed her of her declaration. 

We have rewritten their definitions. 

 

“Give me your treasonous, your rich, 

Arrest and beat your masses yearning to breathe free, 

We wretched refuse of your teeming boats and borders. 

Send these, the well-born, fair-weathered to me, 

I lift my lamp beside the fool’s golden door!” 

 

Columbia, 

we have all but flattered you. 

We have yanked you every which way, 

twisting your hand in attempts to kiss it. 

We have watched you drawn and quartered, 

your guts on display for our purpose. 

But you have always returned to unite us. 

No wonder we stand broken today. 

 

We are the ones that loved you 

and cursed you in the same breath. 

It was selfish to think we could have you. 

We left your words never to be heeded, 

raped you of your promise and wore it like a trophy. 

We left you to die  

with everything we said we stood for.