Session with the Godfather of Soul
(The Michael Jackson Narrative) By Oliver O. Mbamara
It is a tea session with the Godfather of Soul
I walk tenderly into the gigantic hall
Certainly a stranger to the environment
Unsure of what the session might well offer.
Tea sessions; I had many of those on earth
But this is a different world from earth
The venue is gigantic and so is the Host
The Godfather of Soul in all His majesty
Gently beckoning with a wave of hand
He utters no words but I hear him say
“Welcome Michael, please take your seat”
The communication is instant, Soul to Soul
Still like a stranger, I approach the seat
It has my name beautifully carved on it
But the Godfather is not looking
Just like others sitting at the table
Teacup in hand, attention on the screen
With cheerful smiles across their faces
I begin to recognize them one by one,
Great artists and entertainers of ages past;
Shakespeare is here and so is Monet
Beethoven is here and so is Mozart
Sammy Davis is here and so is Elvis
John Lennon is here and so is Dandridge.
I can’t name them all for the table is long
But what is it that has their attention so?
I pull up my seat and turn to the screen
Something is going on down on earth
People of all ages, religion, race, and creed
Unite in a display of love and affection
In one corner, I see prisoners doing a dance
Wait…is it the Thriller…Thriller night?
Shows and awards are devoted to a King of Pop
At the Apollo, thousands come together for him
I can’t name all I see for the scenes are too many
Perplexed and confused, I turn to the Godfather
“Are these celebrations truly for me” I ask
“Oh yes Michael,” He says, “they love you dearly”
“But…but…they chided me when I was there.”
“Yes, Michael,” the Godfather says. “It’s only human,
Didn’t your sister Janet, sing it many years ago?”
“…You don’t know what you got till it’s gone…”
“Yes, talk about my sister, my mother, kids, how are they?”
Tears drip down my cheeks as I remember them
The Godfather waves His hand and the screen changes
I could see my loved ones looking strong for me
“They have to know I am well here,” I say
“They know Michael; they just need time to heal”
Just then Farrah Fawcett steps in so heartily
Smiling like an Angel, she takes her seat
“Don’t worry Michael, you will get used to it
I arrived just a few hours ahead of you, but see?
It’s actually healthy, happy, and beautiful here,”
She utters no words but I could read her clearly.
“Okay Michael, finish up for we have to proceed
There’s more work to be done.” The Godfather says.
“More work?” I ask wondering at the Godfather.
“Of course many of us here will like to learn to do this:”
The Godfather stands and tries a funny drag of His legs
“The Moonwalk?” I ask. Surprised to find myself laughing.
“Yes, the Moonwalk, and more” The Godfather replies.
“Some things you teach us and some things we teach you.
That is how it works here for we are all Co-workers.”
The Godfather opens His hand to reveal a white glove
Excitedly, I grab it and scream, “oh, my glove!” and
In a moment, I am on my feet gliding to my moonwalk.
Overcoming my excitement, I approach the Godfather
“I have to let them know I see them and that I am fine.”
“Of course, you could be in their dreams ….”
“Godfather…can I just write them now?” I ask
“If you insist, Michael, by all means please write them”
Gladly, I take my seat and begin to write this narrative.
© Oliver O. Mbamara – July 2009
POEMS OF FREEDOM
Filed under: African Events | Tagged: death, farrah fawcett, forgiveness, freedom, Godfather, Heaven, king of pop, Michael Jackson, Singer, Soul | 1 Comment »