To C.S. Lewis

I thank God for being born
28 years after your death.
For your being now “forever”
For not having to worry about not my tomorrow.

And what if you’d resolved
To be stronger after her death?
Or if my parents were born half of a century earlier?
Lets assume the first case, though.
I would never like to have another parents.
If you should still
Jump through the attic,
Hate the school,
Tame the Lions,
Revive the fauns.

Well,
You still would not know anything about my existence.
But I,
I would pray for your health
Every night.

And when that day should come
The day, when I would be
Conscious enough
To regret the dead,
They would cram you
Somewhere between those singing
About the cheap usury
And at 5 pm they would announce on the radio:

The great man is gone
For the all kinds of cough.

It feels so great that I was born
28 years after your death.