There's No Power Like Home by Amanda Gorman

We were sick of home, Home sick. That mask around our ear Hung itself into the year. Once we stepped into our home, We found ourselves gasping, tear- ing it off like a bandage, Like something that gauzed The great gape of our mouth. Even faceless, a smile can still Scale up our cheeks, Bone by bone, Our eyes crinkling Delicately as rice paper At some equally fragile beauty— The warbling blues of a dog, A squirrel venturing close, The lilt of a beloved's joke. Our mask is no veil, but a view. What are we, if not what we see in another.

— Call Us What We Carry by Amanda Gorman (Page 19)