- My name is Christine Gelinieau and the name of my poem is "Instructions for Hanging On."

And it carries an epigraph to the poet Ada Limón, whose poem, "Instructions for Not Giving Up" showed me a way in.

Two hundred fifty years of flawed progress would be a lot to give up on.

Imperfections, persist and persist but in the long length of time's arc we yearn to confirm the prophet's faith.

It is an arc that bends towards justice.

Consider this winter's spontaneous blossoming of neighbor protection in ice cold Minnesota.

The frogs and unicorns of support in Portland, the fierce refusal to look away so many have shown.

Instead to remember what brought my grandfather from Northern Ireland or my in-laws from Nazi Germany.

What brought my father's grandfather south from Montreal to remake himself and lend his skills to building Rhode Island's state capital dome, to contributing one to another, one to others.

Out of the mud and the winter detritus daffodils are spearing their way to the surface.

Tulips unfurling their leathery leaves in preparation, and the forsythia wands blare their multitude of tiny trumpets.

Orioles are returning to the apple trees, those naturalized citizens we think of as American as.

Spring muscles its way past winter.

The tree leaves unfurl and applaud their green gold palms reminding us the urgency to bear fruit endures.

(soft music)