maya angelou's poem for MJ

"We Had Him": Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.

remember

  Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad. 


i love this poem - so sad, yet so positive and giving... this should be my eulogy and epitaph

this thing called Love

so many interpretations of this four letter word....but for the purposes of this blog, let's just stick to the traditional use, and keep it nice.

a mother's love - i was watching Oprah's interview with Katherine Jackson about MJ...you could see the pain in her eyes which cannot be faked.  that kind of love will never fade nor die.

a child's love - Oprah then spoke with MJ's children; and the love Paris and Prince hold for their dad is what every parent would wish for from their children.

a lover's love? well, that's another thing right?  some love could really be lust, some could be infatuation, and then there are the true loves.  i'm sure many of you have had experiences in all these areas - i surely have  such memories...  and i think that i am very blessed because i can safely say that i have loved many, but have definitely been loved by more - but which ones are true, and which are lust?  that's for me to know, and for you to guess :)

out of whack

do you sometimes feel that you are out of sorts, out of whack, out of everything? not a very nice feeling eh... you feel like you have ants in your pants, always having to be on the move, and dissatisfied with everything around you, yet not wanting to do anything about it.

do you feel that perhaps the best thing is to bury yourself in the sand?  except there's no sand around.

do you feel that you want some company?  except you don't really want to talk about anything in particular, and probably prefer really to be on your own?

oh such horrible terrible days and hours.. must be the moon!