Dear Michael,

I dreamt I met you last night, Billie Jean era, the you before the controversy. I was only just born at the time but I met you in my dream as I am now, and shook your hand and said thank you. I brought all my disability and illness-stricken friends through the years to a concert of yours and you healed us all with your music, all hail the power of dreams. A dream within a dream within a dream. I guess I was repressing my love for your music all these years because I had enough ridicule of my own and for that I'm sorry.

You rocked my childhood, you gave me hope for peace and even though I knew that all these years, I never showed it when you became a freakshow to everyone around me. I myself know you weren't a freakshow, you were hurt and sad and lonely. I could tell from your music. I never joined in their ridicule but I never stopped it either, till now.

I can't even write a poem on this. I reserved in this contest wanting to write a poem but I can't even do that. When you render a poet wordless, you know you've made an impact. RIP, I feel like I lost a friend.

♥


June 26, 2009