Our Hero
A little piece I wrote for Flips Funeral
There is an interlude to the beginning
But the present has now passed
As I record this passage
Of a hero to the last
So I beat a hasty path
On my outward journey
Two hours I estimated
One and a half hour was the plan
An hour by calculations
Baring cancellations and disruptions
So I set off on the journey
Using my wits and guile
To reach there on time
Rushed from my home
resplendently dressed
With a sacrament at hand
And a focus in mind
Soon I arrived at the station
To test my master plan
Soon reality was to strike me
When an announcement was made
There are delays on the overhead
And also on the underground.
Plan A now a reject
Plan B takes the stand
Never try a one way focus
With any task at hand
After the interruptions
Stops and starts
Arrived at the next station
With a racing heart.
Zig, Zags the platform
With obstacles in path
But there waiting on the platform
A train, ready to depart
Then on to Brixton
The portly man arrives
With camera on his shoulder
And a bounder to his stride
"And do you know the way to Bikley?"
The portly man exclaimed
"Are you going to the funeral?" I asked
"Yes I am, but were you asked?"
Me neither, You either
As I shook my head,
Exchanging bemusing glances
Then in our carriage, joined a mourning throng
Bonding together our conversation of mission planned
For we had come to pay homage to our hero
Radical to the core
Who taught our African history
And did so much more.
We soon alighted our carriage
Then climbed up the stairs
Youngster bounding along
As our aged knee got sore
Then out of the platform, to Bikleys charm
Towers the spire of a church
In the clear blue sky
"Where is the church in Bikley"?
A question we all asked
Then came the reply,
"Underneath them spires
Over yonder skies"
Now as I end my journey
So too must he ascend
Now we are to laud his praises
His Accomplishments.
As I raised my head,
The terrain did I explore
A right and a left, a ten minutes walk
No less no more.
Then out of to the fresh air
The silence of the trumpeters note
Soon at the gates we arrived
To be greeted by a tree,
The previous night I dreamt.
For under it was laden
Passion fruits you see,
But when I open one up
Crystal clear water did I see.
Copyright © Reggae Magnet | Year Posted 2014
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