The Man with the Opener

You sat on the chair with a beam on your face.
Like a child offering candy to a stranger, you gave me your opener.
It was not once but twice.

I smiled to say thank you but your thoughts were far away.
I wish I had asked for your card, and then I would know your first name.
I have gazed at the pictures of the bloody bodies, eager to dentify the cherry shirt.
How will ever know?
Do I really need to know?

Maybe I should have persuaded you to follow my path,
But how could I have known?
I just followed the rhythm of the wind.

May be the angel of death passed you by,
Perhaps it was not yet your time.
I guess, I will never know.

From your number one fan.

It’s been a year since the almighty relieved you of the useless pain,
Incase you are wondering, Thriller is still the best selling album.
Guess what! The world cup actually came to Africa.
You should have seen the look in Madibas eyes,
I imagine, you would have been there,
May be you could have sung a song,
Oh ya, you Americans don’t like soccer.

Things have not changed so much...
The world isn’t a better place.
Little children still die of hunger,
Others are defiled before they can speak.

Instead of healing, the world is getting sicker.
Troops are moving faster to fight endless wars,
Money is the god that governs the world,
You won’t believe it, where I come from,
Children are sacrificed to get riches.

You must be in a better place.
How does it feel to walk freely without cameras?
Are you in the choir?
It must be amazing to see little children play without fear of getting harmed.
Well, your name still lives on.
A billion years may never wipe it away,
Till we meet ..
Your number 1 fan.