The Loss of His Voice
by Michael Doyle

Thinking on this, I must confess
The icon's death has left a mess
Like Poitier and Belafonte good
James Earl Jones rose above Hollywood

With the loss of a singular voice
Black and white Hollywood became less
Though lives end without much of a choice
His death leaves popular culture a mess

In tones not too much or too little
James Earl Jones struck the middle
Reminding us that he was and is human
His breathy voice echoed of stellar ruin

Somewhere far away in a galaxy's night
A giant of a man has taken his last flight
With his denial, he became the nation's father
Yet, despite his role, it felt proper

The Force was strong with that one
Many a boy wished he was Vader's son
Now faced with a change of the deal
Death's kiss has come to place its seal

In tones not too much or too little
James Earl Jones struck the middle
Reminding us that he was and is human
His breathy voice echoed of stellar ruin

The lack of faith was a bit disturbing
Fear and dead men surround, unnerving 
Around me, the tear-soaked eyes of a nation
Having lost a bit of every boy's aspiration

A tragic childhood left him almost mute
Until the poetry inside overcame the brute
A giant of a growing man overcame his boyhood
Taking a Rangers' tab, he quietly understood

In tones not too much or too little
James Earl Jones struck the middle
Reminding us that he was and is human
His breathy voice echoed of stellar ruin

Speaking words of poetry, and on the stage
He came to be the man of love turning that page
Role by role, Jones rose to some prominence 
Filled with confidence, he lived his promises

There was a star-filled light inside
It was not one of those that could easily hide
Into a nation's hearts, he found his easy pace
His became a voice that many would easily embrace

(c) September 11, 2024   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved