The sky weeps for its fallen sons.
Today Cuba is united in a single feeling, one that throbs with pain which at the same time becomes pride in the courage and fortitude shown by its brave soldiers, who know no weakness in the face of the enemy.
As if the very soul of the Cuban sky were being wrung at the passing of its fallen sons, today a cold drizzle descends lightly to cover the coffins of the combatants who returned to their homeland after ascending to the sacred altar of the Fatherland.
A flag rests upon the urn, which begins to move on a military vehicle. The solemn procession travels along a road lined with thousands of compatriots who have come to pay their respects.
The rain has not deterred the tribute; no one has moved. They remain at the place where their heroic remains rest, as evidenced by the images that are beginning to flood social media.
Today, Cuba is united in a single sentiment, one that throbs with pain, yet simultaneously transforms into pride in the valor and fortitude shown by its brave soldiers, who know no weakness in the face of the enemy.
And one might think that the heavens know of this profound sorrow, that the rain persists as a healing balm to soothe the pain of so many good souls who departed so suddenly, but under the fire of machine guns, as heroes do.
And that thought offers comfort and encouragement, though never to that mother who will never again see her son walk through the front door. But all eyes, filled with love and affection, will turn toward her, for she offered the most precious thing in her life. She goes and even finds peace. For on this unredeemed island, one learns to live with pain; it is soothed, some would say, and strengthened, all would acknowledge.
We have felt such pain more than once, and in the long run, it is what has made us strong, with all the necessary fortitude to survive and prevail.
Written by Arnaldo Mirabal.
