Inaugural Moment

I've been waiting for January 20th to arrive with anticipation for quite some time, excited by Biden's promise of a coordinated response to the covid-19 virus. I'm tired of staying home.

I heard the unfounded cries that the election had been stolen with a jaded ear. Let Trump cry; judges at multiple levels in several states tossed his team's lawsuits because he had no evidence to back his claims. He wasn't going to get anywhere.

It wasn't until the day the Senate was attempting to certify the votes of the Electoral College (a day I've never paid attention to until this year), the day the U.S. Capitol was invaded by a short-sighted mob, that my attention was jolted back to the transition at hand. Thankfully, the invaders were unorganized and without a cohesive plan. While four of the them, and one Capitol officer, paid way too much to delay the process, they didn't stop it. The horror of the images flashing across my screen that day will stay with me for the rest of my life.

My inner tension finally eased as I watched the inaugural ceremonies. I breathed a little more easily as the oaths were proclaimed; the deal, sealed. The clock ticked passed noon. The baton had been passed,  codes had been changed, a war hadn't been started. *Whew!*

I expected the ceremony and accompanying speeches to settle my mind, and they did. The part I didn't expect was the part where we heard the words of a "skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother". I wasn't paying close attention as she walked out and stepped up to the podium, her name and story were not one I knew. Then, the slight young lady in her bright yellow coat started talking. Her words. Her words bypassed my mind and heart and struck directly into my soul. 

Amanda Gorman's hands danced as she read the poem she'd written:

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:

That even as we grieved, we grew

That even as we hurt, we hoped

That even as we tired, we tried

For there is always light,

if only we’re brave enough to see it

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Powerful poetry

Speaking of and to the nation, somehow she spoke directly to me.

Her words describe my journey. 

My struggles to be brave these past, hard, years.

My struggles to see the light, to be the light, if only for a brief moment.

The wisdom of her words, the tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eye - all these embody hope. 

Hope for change, hope for unity, hope for a better tomorrow.

Yes.