A dove coos above my head, behind the orange and red sun blinds, where I cannot see him. I listen to his voice until he leaves, and wait for the tears to find my eyes. A love song that flies away on the wind, takes with her the beauty of the moment. I look into a black and white photograph, and see my ancestors neatly lined up, with my grandfather as a young boy, covered in his innocence, standing patiently on the side. What are the untold stories, that so many have forgotten to tell us, about the essence of our lives? What would they tell me, if I would ask them about the meaning, the only way to be happy in this life? I cannot tell myself this answer, because he died when I was too young, to understand the meaning of this question. To run or to hide is what I am asking now, as the storm rages all around me, but I stay until the eye of the tornado, hides me in the safest place of her womb. Paralyzed I hang in the air, like a numb paraglider who forgot his trade, and whose life is now at the mercy of God. But as I balance between life and death, I look at this astonishing sunset, to realize that this is only beginning. The songs of my ancestors have left me, the rhymes of my mother’s heart are fading, but the word of God still lingers in my soul where it lights up all the dark places. I look once more over my shoulder, to find the dove that reminded me of them, but she is long gone, and just like that I lose my balance, forced to choose between life and death. I let go and choose to live, because the stories of these ancestor, cannot end in this moment. So, I softly continue this love song, with the strength of my ancestors, safely hidden in my heart, and the love of God all around me.
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