My house, a quiet place at night but very noisy during the day, due to the constant traffic and pedestrians that circulate along the avenue. Every morning it is normal to hear people talking while walking, the noise of the trucks that move, the buses that circulate leaving their particular smoke where they pass, the sound of the cars already almost broken by the lack and high costs of the spare parts and the Bustle of the bikes at full speed do not wait. In addition you hear the full-bodied horns of neighbors who always hear their music so peculair, in fact some are to my liking, most do not. Anyway, the area where I live is totally noisy, something I used to get used to when I moved to this place, because I'm from a town where cars and trucks do not circulate as often as in the city, but after a time my ears were adapted to the usual racket every day.
One day I wake up doing my usual routine: Brush my teeth and turn on the kitchen to make coffee (my vice). But there was something missing, a component was not in place. I stopped for a moment to think what it was, I went out in front of the house overlooking the avenue and I noticed the ingredient that was needed, the noisy avenue was desolate, the pedestrians with their conversations were not there, the noise of the trucks was not they listened, the cars were extinct, the silent motorcycles and the horns of the neighbors were off, I could hear a deep silence, but not a quiet silence, it was more like the silence of loneliness, of despair, of nostalgia, of abandonment , the sadness. It was the silence of a depressed country without wanting to talk, without the courage to work or go out in search of bread. I felt so sad that my heart could not contain the tears when looking at the country where I live so dejected by the abandonment, the economy, the lack of values, the constant emigrations of the country, of its inhabitants in search of a better quality of life and for the coldness of those who every day struggle to get food for their home.
Source
I could not stop thinking about the days of my childhood when moral values were the main norm of the family, where I could buy with the allowance they gave me for school, or when I played late into the night on the street without running no danger I remembered those days where my mother taught me that the gentleman gave the seat on the bus to the ladies, that Christmas was happy, happy and forgiving, the days where I could gather to buy clothes, shoes, sweets and I could even save on the particular little pig that later on Christmas broke to buy me fireworks. I compared it with the reality we live today and it is difficult to understand how it went from being joy to so much sadness, of being in abundance to having nothing, of being sure of feeling insecure.
SourceThe day I heard the aphonia of my avenue, I understood that I could not leave my country, as is common, without fighting before him, without making the effort so that people smile, to help them with food and above all without showing them the love of God in our lives, that love that every day impels us to fight for a better future and makes us trust that He will sustain us with the right hand of his hand in the midst of an economically depressed country. I will fight with my wife @zuni not to listen again, as Alex Campos calls in one of his songs, the "Sound of Silence" in my country Venezuela.
In the streets of my avenue
And although it sounds ironic
Nothing I write is a lie
Today I feel so much empathy
For my country that suffers such a fall
And through these rhymes
I vent my melancholy
This post is written of an afflicted heart that wants to see a new Venezuela full of happiness and joy. Thanks for reading my post.
