JANUARY 21, 2021 – Yesterday with you I watched President Biden’s inaugural speech and the stellar performances that followed, most notably, Amanda Gorman’s recitation of her poem, The Hill We Climb. Not to be moved by such heart and soul is to be bereft of both.
As I observed the proceedings, I felt as though I’d been rescued from a horrifically violent, pornographic movie inside an airless theatre and transported to a cathedral filled with the light of heaven streaming through divinely inspired stained glass and gracing an angelic choir singing to the glory of God’s creation.
As the inauguration unfolded, I conducted a mind experiment; I imagined the thoughts of various people who appeared inside the camera’s range. I started with the new president himself. As he delivered his speech, what inner thoughts transcended his words? Perhaps . . . “Here’s the deal: this is a really big deal. In fact, this is the culmination of what God has put me on earth to be, to do. And it’s not about me. It’s about others. Never forget that, Joey.” No, not “perhaps.” With Biden, all is down to earth but looking skyward.
Next was Mitch McConnell, caught in a weary slump. Behind his eyewear, beyond his eyes, I detected a flicker of introspection, but I couldn’t be sure. Was it, “Gosh, but this guy really is good!” or was it, “Gosh, but how in the wake of the human wrecking ball am I gonna get back the power of ‘no’?”
As the camera panned back to President Biden, it caught (citizen) Pence. His presence underscored loudly, Orange Man’s absence. At first, I didn’t think anyone was home inside the Mind of Mike. I tapped an imaginary door-knocker and heard a muffled disturbance behind the door of opaqueness. I might have heard, “Golly, how does he do that—talk so nice?” But I wasn’t sure—maybe I was imagining too much imagination on the part of Pence.
The camera moved on, revealing Dr. Jill Biden. Her heart, soul—and brains—shone through her thick, big, black mask. I found her thoughts easy to imagine: “What a boon to the education of our youth to play and replay across this land, these proceedings, this lofty time in the name and restoration of faith in American democracy!”
When Amanda Gorman stepped to the podium, she was luminous in her command of the crowd—and the world. As her words worked their medicinal wonders on our broken hearts and troubled souls, the sun beamed like a halo over her head. Her delivery danced freely along her sleeves and sparkled across her fingertips. The fullness of her innermost thoughts rode upon the golden chariot of her poetry, coursing triumphantly around the world for all to hear. Her moments in the sun left humanity in a garden of hope.
And I wept.
Last came the benediction by Reverend Dr. Sylvester Beaman—power enough to make a non-believer believe the nightmare is over, however long the marathon that we have yet to run.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
