In Memory of Michael Jackson

Tuesday, July 7, 2009 - The Day of Michael's Memorial

The strokes rise and fall with my mind
Entwined in a tight ball
A hard fist wound
In this bondage of clay.

I write to pray.

A little girl sits next to me on the train
Bound to the city that never sleeps.
She gazes at my writing hand whisking across the page,
In thoughts on the deep.
She doesn't know I am pouring out my heart to God.
She doesn't know that I am standing in the need of prayer.
Standing on holy ground seeking,
Knocking, asking
For the answers to lift my despair.

Her father puts his arm about her shoulder,
Looks down to her face
As she returns her eyes up to meet him
In the love shared in places of the heart.
He gives her a kiss.
How sweet.
It's what I desire from God.

I arrive at 33rd Street
To head uptown to Harlem's hallowed ground.
Where the trumpets sound
In remembrance of a little king boy
Who gave the world so much joy,
And is now heaven bound.

So in this sad hour
Today at the building named for Adam Clayton Powell,
We have come
From far and near places
To share in the end times
Of someone gone too soon.
We stand gathered
On the concrete floor board
Paved in the stones
Of bones
Swept from the graves
Of past slaves
Braving the waves ashore
To come aground
In a new day under heaven's gate
Opened to the exiting men
Been waiting
There
Where they beared up
The cross for the lost.

I stand amongst the throes
Of the weathered woes
Of the many souls
Who come to say goodbye
As we cry and sigh
For a dear loved one who has passed
On over to the by and by.
We suffer the lost of one of our own
Gone home
To sit with the Father on high.

We watched him croon a tune
As many, many swooned
Over this little prince.
We watched him grow into a young man
Rich in the light of love,
And the heart to care for those everywhere.
We were charmed by his shy smile,
His sweet tender touch
Of a wounded child.

We saw him come into adulthood.
And we stood and watched as the personal struggles
Challenged him seemingly overwhelmingly.
And I wished I could be there
Just so he would know how much I had come to care.
I could see the cast of fate,
The mask of late
Brought to bare...
such despair...
As shadows loomed in from corners
Where
Those who dare
To tend the garden
Hardened in the heated race
To maintain your place.

The line to define, confine and blind is covered in slime.

But on this day,,
On this walkway,
We had come to say to our dear Michael -
You are one of a special kind.
And we are reminded that it was God who defined you,
Who chose you.
To shine
From glory to glory.
This to be your story.

As the touching elements were spent
And tributes spoken in tokens of the heart,
Tears were shed
And we bowed our head to God
As we gave way to the spirit
In thanksgiving for the many ways
In which Michael's worth on earth
Gave birth to lasting moments
To remember the times
We shared today and yesterday
When he went away
Leaving an empty space in a hollow place
Never to come again.
But so thankful
That he has been.

We gathered together -
Little children, elderly men and women,
The middle-aged
who had all taken a turn on the dance floor
To the thriller movements
With Billie Jeans and gentle Bens
Rocking the night away
To spin in the winds of times
Bearing the cross
Of Michael's living legacy -
To love and be loved one for another -
Men, sisters, mothers and brothers
Alike
Black or white
And all the in-betweens
It seems.

The service ended
As the sprinkling of baptismal raindrops
Fell as heaven's dew.
It was very appropriate, I thought.
I love the rain.
We are one in the same
Coming from the clouds
Lovingly captured in mountains cloistered
Above where my window seat looks
Out to the blue sea
Berthed in me.
Joined in with the voices
Of the drummers sending over
The message to the Africa homeland
That the man mirrored
On the placards pasted on the wall above their heads
Was entering the kingdom hall.
I followed the rhythms
Within me rising to meet under the heavenly
Misty waters
Announcing Michael's entrance
Into the gates
Where St. Peter awaits
With the angels rejoicing
In song
That Michael's long road home
At last
Had come to pass.

Free at last, free at last,
Thank God almighty, he's free at last.

All My Love, Ruth

"We grieve for a moment, but joy comes in the morning."

Dedicated to Elena (Russia)
So precious and dear. We met. We wept. We came together
And held each other near.
Thank you for sharing your love for Michael with me.
I will not forget you, ever.

My Love, Ruth