To those who have dreamt; to those who continue to dream....
Yesterday, I witnessed the beginning of something beautiful, of something whole and pure, of something stolen but has since been returned. Like so many others around me, I shivered in the cold, never having known the true warmth hidden from me. The fire and passion of Hope, of unyielding optimism, of blind love, spread across this nation in one botched, preassembled oath of allegiance; an oath made not to a abstract set of laws or an unseen countryside, but an oath to every woman, child and man who breathed before him, a pledge of duty and responsibility, of faith and assurance. In the chords that carried his promise, a wave of inspiration and security expanded and enveloped all who witnessed.
Had I not seen this broadcast, had I not seen the millions standing in the cold, the eyes of a nation set upon on one man; had I not heard the words myself, I still would have known that an era had passed.
Because I saw that Hope, and that change of seasons, in the face of the man who sobbed behind me. A man whose name and identity I did not know, but whose features and actions told me more than I will ever need. I saw in the wrinkles that wore through his charcoal cheeks the years of hate and prejudice being pushed out the windows of soul, as a stream of tears carried out the memories of oppression, of injustice, of exclusion from the country he served, of the nation he was born to. I saw in his eyes the disbelief and excitement, of old dreams renewed, and of new dreams created. He wore his tears with pride, unabashed in his emotion, as if no man shall ever hold him down again.
His private moment became a public declaration, and the tears that adorned our cheeks became cries of silent movement, a determination to face our challenges together. History will speak of his election, of his many firsts, of great mistakes and even greater achievements, yet it will never be able to tell of the man whose heart was made whole again, whose shattered dreams were woven with the words “I do solemnly swear…”
Had I not seen this broadcast, had I not seen the millions standing in the cold, the eyes of a nation set upon on one man; had I not heard the words myself, I still would have known that an era had passed.
Because I saw that Hope, and that change of seasons, in the face of the man who sobbed behind me. A man whose name and identity I did not know, but whose features and actions told me more than I will ever need. I saw in the wrinkles that wore through his charcoal cheeks the years of hate and prejudice being pushed out the windows of soul, as a stream of tears carried out the memories of oppression, of injustice, of exclusion from the country he served, of the nation he was born to. I saw in his eyes the disbelief and excitement, of old dreams renewed, and of new dreams created. He wore his tears with pride, unabashed in his emotion, as if no man shall ever hold him down again.
His private moment became a public declaration, and the tears that adorned our cheeks became cries of silent movement, a determination to face our challenges together. History will speak of his election, of his many firsts, of great mistakes and even greater achievements, yet it will never be able to tell of the man whose heart was made whole again, whose shattered dreams were woven with the words “I do solemnly swear…”