Nobody anticipated his performance. Not in this manner.
This young youngster was brought into the limelight while wearing a hospital gown, wearing bandages on his face and limbs, and having an IV stand next to his wheelchair. The crowd went quiet. Unsure of what to say, the judges leaned forward.
Then he lifted the microphone, though.
and sung.
What emerged was strength, not simply a song. It hurt. It was optimism. His voice sounded lovely, not broken. Packed with feelings that only a person who had really experienced anything could possess.
Not only did every word sound like music, but it also conveyed the message, “I’m still here.” I continue to believe. I also have something else to say.
Tears were wiped away by audience members. In an apparent attempt to conceal theirs, one judge looked away. It was one of those infrequent performances that did more than amuse; it also had therapeutic benefits.
He was able to avoid walking. Special effects weren’t necessary for him. He just needs to have guts. A microphone, too.
This youngster became a representation of something much more than skill in less than a minute.
He became a voice for all the warriors, all the suffering children, and all the souls seeking light in the dark.
This was more than simply a show. The world needed that moment.
