Like silent trumpets, the lights of the auditorium suddenly blazed. We seniors cheered, the audience stood and applauded, and then we heard the tinny sound of “Pomp and Circumstance” coming from the school orchestra sitting at the front. I always cry when I hear that song. As we marched proudly down the aisle, our excited parents flashing cameras and waving with joy, I thought back to my first day of school as a kindergartener, how scared I was and how a skinny little boy named Andy Jackson shared his peanut butter sandwich with me. I thought about grade school and long division, junior high and locker partners, high school and basketball games, hospitals and funerals.
As senior class president, I had to give a speech, but I didn’t know if I could stand in front of that huge room of parents and students and put the shadows into words. I climbed the steps slowly—this was no time to trip or stumble—and I watched the others march in. The rest of the graduates proudly filed into rows of gowns and hats into the seats in front of me, their faces were unwrapped packages of smiles and success. We sat down, the lights were dimmed, and the ceremony began with the usual speeches from school board members and declarations by the principal. My speech was the very last of the evening—our final good-bye. I held the pages tightly in my hand as I skimmed the words once more. I tried to relax a little, and I grabbed the tiny butterfly hanging from the thin silver chain around my neck. When it was time, I was ready.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our final speaker of the evening: our senior class president, Miss Keisha Montgomery, who will deliver the parting address from the senior class,” I heard Ms. Wiggersly say. Every member of the senior class stood and applauded as I walked slowly to the podium. I felt their strength and I didn’t cry. I knew my parents, sitting out there in the audience with Monty, Angel, and Joyelle, were probably shedding a couple of tears. I breathed slowly and evenly as I adjusted my eyes to the brightness of the stage lights and the darkness of the auditorium in front of me. I was not afraid.
I began: “We, the members of this graduating class, are joined together forever in a circle of friendship and memories. We have read of death in our history books; we have seen death’s face up close. We have studied the problems of society; we have seen how those problems can devastate a friend. Because of our unusual difficulties, we have become stronger. Our shared tears have become the glue that binds us together in love.
“Two members of our graduating class will not be marching out of this room with us tonight. They will not go to college, or marry, or discover a cure for cancer. Andy Jackson and Robbie Washington are forever silent, but never forgotten. Their spirit lives with each of us, in each of us, and joins us together in this powerful circle of love.
“Let us not leave this place in sorrow, however. Our spirits are too strong to dwell only in the past. Let us take our spirits now, like the flames of many candles, to a new world, a world of hope and possibilities, a place where butterflies are magic and dreams can never die.
“I would like to ask the senior class to stand now, and to join hands—all of you.” The seniors looked around in slight confusion, but obeyed, joining hot and sweaty hands together for what was surely their very last time together. They looked up at me with expectation.
“I wrote this poem when I came back to school this spring.” My voice stammered a bit. “It is called, ‘Let Our Circle Be Unbroken.’” I paused, breathed deeply, and began. “Please repeat after me,” I said. “Let our circle be unbroken.”
“Let our circle be unbroken,” they repeated, their voices loud and strong.
let our joys and sorrow sing
let our joys and sorrow sing
let all children hear our message
let all children hear our message
let our mighty spirits bring
let our mighty spirits bring
all the power of the seniors
all the power of the seniors
all our dignity and pride
all our dignity and pride
let our circle be unbroken
let our circle be unbroken
as we clasp our hands and guide
as we clasp our hands and guide
all our voices to the heavens
all our voices to the heavens
as each hand to hand is pressed
as each hand to hand is pressed
and our love and will is strengthened
and our love and will is strengthened
and our minds and bodies blessed
and our minds and bodies blessed
by the power of the ancients
by the power of the ancients
and the wisdom of the winds
and the wisdom of the winds
let our circle be unbroken
let our circle be unbroken
for our circle never ends
for our circle never ends
The seniors cheered, holding their hands together high above their heads. The lights brightened the room again, the orchestra began to play, and the trumpets sounded. And all of us, the senior class, clutched our diplomas, left the shadows of the past behind us, and marched proudly out of the auditorium into the dawn of our tomorrows.
Darkness Before Dawn Page 18
