And when he died, he died so swift
His death was like a final gift.
He went out when the tide was full,
Still undiminished, bountiful;
The scholar and the gentle soul,
The passion and the life were whole.
And now death's wake is only praise,
As when a neighbor writes and says:
"I did not know your father, but
His light was there. I miss the light."
• from May Sarton's poem A Celebration for George Sarton
When Michael Jackson died in 2009, Wade Robson—the former choreographer whose allegations of abuse are at the center of a controversial new documentary, Leaving Neverland—wrote in tribute to his friend:
Michael Jackson changed the world and, more personally, my life forever. He is the reason I dance, the reason I make music, and one of the main reasons I believe in the pure goodness of humankind. He has been a close friend of mine for 20 years. His music, his…
I can live with the sky falling out from above
I can live with your scorn, your sourness, your smug
I can live with growing alone if push comes to shove
But I can't live without my mother's love
I can live flying around at an impossible pace
I can live with the bad etiquette that's fallen on this place
I can live with anything you got to throw in my face
But I can't live without my mother's embrace