He Died By Ousuru D. Black

He died,

He died two years to the day,

The day that robbed us his life,

His life that was a noble testimony.

Yes he died,

He died battling the effects of a stroke,

A stroke made the frail man helpless,

Helpless because he had no voice,

No voice to speak his final counsel.

Yes he died,

He died having lived full-cycle, almost,

Almost after seeing three generations,

Generations of his children, their children,

And their children’s children.

Yes he died,

He died and robbed us that love and unity,

Unity that was a creation of his discipline,

Discipline that embodied truth and justice,

Justice for his children and his family.

So when he died,

The main tree had fallen,

And we are left in pain and emptiness,

We remain in bitterness and fatherless,

Because the taproot died.

I am stood in faith and hope,

That our meet in the life yonder,

Will occur sometime some day,

Daddy I still celebrate you buddy,

Two years gone, keep resting in peace eternal.

Your son and young friend,

Just me – Black.