I Weep

I weep for the children in hospital beds on every continent who knew for one bright, shining moment that they were important enough for the most famous man in the world to take the time to visit and lighten their burdens. He brought smiles and laughter. He brought toys and games and music. But his most important gift to them was his presence, his thought, his caring. In that gift, they knew that their bodies broken by disease did not disgust him. They knew that their bald heads and discolored skin did not arouse his pity. They knew themselves as gifts to the world, just as he was. His smile, his eyes so full of love removed their shackles and intravenous tubing and weakness. It was only for a moment, but it was a lifetime of renewed faith. Who can do that for them now?

I weep for the children whose lives were lived in darkness, frightening and fraught with peril, until he brought them into the light in a magical fairy tale place which he had remade in his own image. They laughed and rode rides and ate snow cones with him. With magic shows and movie reels he helped them forget for a few moments the chains that bound them to a reality that held no hope. They ran over rope bridges and slid down giant slides and were allowed the freedom of childhood under his watchful care. Like all tender buds, they blossomed for those moments and he rejoiced. Who, now, can bring that blossoming?

I weep for the children birthed from his loins. They fulfilled him as he fulfilled them. He rushed them home from the hospital still covered in their birth with helicopters hovering over his speeding car. He nurtured them with his love, taught them with his devotion. By his example, they learned. Their play ground is empty now, their rooms stripped of the dolls and paraphernalia collected over a lifetime of fascination with films. He remains, now, only in their hearts. They are left with only memories of a magical man and time to sustain them. He entrusted their care to an extended family who can speak of him with pride and love, knowing that the world outside their gates has more hurtful memories to impose. And it is anxious to inflict them on their tender souls. Who can protect them now from the world’s view? Who can explain and instill non-violence into their aching hearts when the world’s opinions clatter and clang against their ramparts?

I weep for the locale that knew the intimacy of his touch. It, too, blossomed under his watchful care. It, too, knew his love. Its verdant lawns and lighted paths rejoiced as his bare feet skipped gently over their surface. Its trees await, still, the touch of his hands and feet as he climbs into their tallest branches to be at one with life’s source. Its beauty was enhanced by the ever present music floating on the gentle breezes. It knew the joy of children playing and laughing. It knew the splatter of water balloons soaking it in gentle, carefree play. It knew the touch of elephants and giraffes, chimps and llamas as they careened within their enclosures. The rain of his tears of joy nourished it and made it thrive. His heartbeat was its heartbeat and it smiled in his presence. All that remains of that joy, now, is the stain on the dance studio floor where his sweat pooled, producing another kind of nurturance.

I weep for the teenagers, their lives confused and tormented, surrounded by enticements. They knew the inspiration of rushing home to watch the latest installment in the ongoing saga of a life lived with purpose and style. Blown by gusts of biochemical and biological need, they trip over their own awkwardness and fall into darkness. For a moment, they knew of another who, too, experienced awkwardness and turned it into grace. They knew the inspiration of another who, too, faced the same enticements and turned them into opportunities for strength. Who can do that for them now? Who would want to?

I weep for the old ones whose memories were filled with his scores, whose lives were touched and molded by his music. The soundtrack of countless lives is disrupted now. But we must count ourselves fortunate. We have the tapes, the albums, the performances, the memories. What of future old ones who won’t be allowed to relive their youths in the rhythms of music that set the whole world dancing? Our hearts are filled with gratitude and humility. We were allowed to know first and secondhand what others will only know through hearsay. We were there through the years of his radiance. In the words of Maya Angelou: “Whether we knew him or did not know, he was ours and we were his. We had him. And we are the world.” With grateful tears, I weep.

I weep for the Earth whose champion has left the stadium. He cherished the planet in all of its diversity. He painted its turmoil on stages across the world with his words and rhythms. He encouraged its many races and ethnicities to come together to heal it. Woven deep within the tapestry of his performances, he cheered earth’s inhabitants to care for their mother. Who speaks for her needs now? Who, now, can command a similar universal platform to herald stewardship and cessation of exploitation?

I weep for the world which had him and knew him not. In its ignorance, it scoffed and accused. Little did it know that he was just the messenger, the harbinger of things to come. For we are destined to evolve; our evolution is a sure bet. It is out of our control. We did not make the plan, we are its completion. The planner has the blueprint. I pray that blueprint offers more like him and a lot fewer like us. He opened himself to us keeping nothing back. He gave all that he had been given – the childhood, the privacy, the young adulthood, the talent, the music, the dance, the words, the money, the love, the acceptance, the spark, the flame. While his gift was beautiful to many, to others it was chaff. Nonetheless, he gave all. Would that we could all learn such fearlessness.

I weep for myself because I loved him; I love him still. I saw him years ago. I knew him - his drive, his strength, his passion, his mission. He was beautiful to me beyond bearing. I saw the light and the darkness that tried so hard, but could not conquer it. I saw the ever-present twinkle in his eyes fade; I saw it reborn from the ashes in strength and endurance. Within his hands, he cradled every one of us as gently as he cradled the fortunate few who danced with him on the stages of his life. Within his heart there was room for all. I miss his presence even in the knowledge that he has never left. While he lives within our hearts, he colors our world with brilliance still.

It’s been nearly a year … and, still, I weep. ~Jan
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