Thank you for coming to Chester Barack Obama ~ Niyonu D. Spann (October 27, 2008)
Thank you for coming to Chester Barack Obama. In all the rain and wind – with no fancy introduction by the Governor or Mayor or anybody actually. I saw you with the rain rushing across your lips – that people watching on TV could not see. I wanted some sort of shelter for you but then; I saw the rightness of it all. Standing in man-made shelter has never been your calling.
Thank you for standing in Chester with the same plantedness as you have and will on the White House floors that so many of our ancestors offered a spotless appearance. We may not be the poorest city that you visited or the blackest city or the one with the least shelter or acknowledgement but surely Chester is one of the most. But you knew that and you showed.
As we stood on the mud-filled lawn after traveling round and round corners with a faith that we would get a glimpse of ourselves. (And I chuckled as the women behind said, “I hope that we are going to be indoors.” Where in Chester did she think all these folks would fit? And, I knew then just how destined we all were to just come.) We were coming to get a glimpse of ourselves as we have yet only dreamed.
And as we muddled forward, the pitch raised with folks selling Obama hats and Obama pins, Obama umbrellas and Obama neckties. Yeah, I would take a souvenir but in truth, we were coming to see the proverbial finger pointing. We would have liked to have stayed in the trance believing that you, the finger, are our salvation. But you kept your focus not on the finger but to where the finger is pointing. And we too had to turn within.
This time I was close enough to further test your vibration and my ability to discern its frequency. In truth, it holds a space for each to step up. For each to bring their piece to the fulfillment of that for which we yearn. You point to me. You point to we. You reminded Chester and all it represents that it has a sacred part to play that is essential to the healing of us all.
Thank you for coming to Chester Barack Obama.
Thank you for coming to Chester Barack Obama. In all the rain and wind – with no fancy introduction by the Governor or Mayor or anybody actually. I saw you with the rain rushing across your lips – that people watching on TV could not see. I wanted some sort of shelter for you but then; I saw the rightness of it all. Standing in man-made shelter has never been your calling.
Thank you for standing in Chester with the same plantedness as you have and will on the White House floors that so many of our ancestors offered a spotless appearance. We may not be the poorest city that you visited or the blackest city or the one with the least shelter or acknowledgement but surely Chester is one of the most. But you knew that and you showed.
As we stood on the mud-filled lawn after traveling round and round corners with a faith that we would get a glimpse of ourselves. (And I chuckled as the women behind said, “I hope that we are going to be indoors.” Where in Chester did she think all these folks would fit? And, I knew then just how destined we all were to just come.) We were coming to get a glimpse of ourselves as we have yet only dreamed.
And as we muddled forward, the pitch raised with folks selling Obama hats and Obama pins, Obama umbrellas and Obama neckties. Yeah, I would take a souvenir but in truth, we were coming to see the proverbial finger pointing. We would have liked to have stayed in the trance believing that you, the finger, are our salvation. But you kept your focus not on the finger but to where the finger is pointing. And we too had to turn within.
This time I was close enough to further test your vibration and my ability to discern its frequency. In truth, it holds a space for each to step up. For each to bring their piece to the fulfillment of that for which we yearn. You point to me. You point to we. You reminded Chester and all it represents that it has a sacred part to play that is essential to the healing of us all.
Thank you for coming to Chester Barack Obama.
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