He bore his Cross across his neck,

You bore the murderer’s knee.

His crucifixion was not in vain,

So won’t yours be.

 

The Preacher told us in Ecclesiastes

There is a time for everything.

You bring alive a conscience

Buried under the ruling skin.

 

The breath they took from you gives breath

To a world in silence throttled.

You have let loose the genie

That lay hitherto bottled.

 

In other worlds far and wide

Your counterparts take heart

That the genie, like Corona,

Will travel to every part.

 

We celebrate your life that was

Intended for a revolution

Now being sung and ushered in

Many an answering nation.

 

There will be others who will yet

To your deed be kin,

Giving of their lives and loves

Till souls triumph over the skin.

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