Armed terrorists with dirty hands, killed our neighbor, when he was about to enter his building, his car collided with the door of the building, we all heard the noise of the collision, I looked out from our balcony, I saw people trying to move him off his car, he was still alive, although he was bleeding, he smiled and cried “ Long live Syria” he was still saying it, until he died.
I heard his voice, as if he were singing, the music seemed to come from all of him, the sound poured out with such force and conviction that I wanted to sing too, he seemed to be singing about the rising sun, about a new day full of hope, about beautiful flowers and the gentle fields, about cool, flowing, sparkling waters to wash all the blood away, he was just singing to Syria with all of his being.
Here I remembered the legend of (the thorn bird): There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than other creatures on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it finds one. Then singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine .And, dying, it rises above its agony to out carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain…Or so says the legend”.
I felt resurrection inside me, about new possibilities, about new ways of looking at life, about a new day full of hope, as long as we have such people, about the beauty of creation, and a great love to Syria, that washes away mistakes, hatred, and rancor. With all our being, with all our strength, let’s just sing to Syria.
Butheina Alnounou
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