It is no ordinary day—the Third of July.
A day on which my homeland was born anew, cast off the garment of hatred and the bitterness of rancor, and walked proudly toward the hill of transcendence.
An extraordinary day. Some departed, others remained, and I remained counting the years and the rivers, breathing in the fragrance of roses and carnations.
The lingering anguish of a wound from only a single year—a year that stole my lifetime and shattered it into fragments scattered along the roadside.
I was not alone then; my heart was my guide,
along with my friends, the martyrs, and the blood of the beloved.
Memories that cannot be bought.
An icon of violet, surrendered to the July sun,
blooming into a street woven from the remnants of the waves upon the body of the sea.
I was never merely a witness; I was either the killer or the slain.
July is the month of violets and jasmine—and it is my month as well.
Should I tell what passed between the violet and me on that day,
or should I conceal the rhyme of silence until the song bursts forth?
It is another migration, perhaps toward a place I do not yet know.
A thousand streets pull me toward her.
She comes to me gently, lays her hand upon my shoulder, and I come alive.
Only a single year. Perhaps the ship will arrive laden with pumpkins.
My homeland, my homeland, my homeland—to you belongs everything in July and throughout the rest of the year. To you belong my soul and my heart.
Job now departs into eternity,
and patience has returned to me as a traveler.
Can patience betray those who endure? No.
No one opens the book of life except those granted long years,
and I am not among them. I am one who loved,
and so I lay down in the gallery of lovers.
An extraordinary day—the Third of July.
My day, your day, and the day of the devoted.
Now I hand the map of love to my son.
He is eternal. He knows how to steer the helm of longing when all others have fallen asleep.
So I am not alone. My son is with me, my silence is with me, my heart is with me; my love, my passion, and my homeland are with me… and so are you.
The Sandstorm… the Woman of the Impossible…
The Phoenix… the Magnolia Tree… and peace.
