The lights of my country

The strength of a country is measured by its affections. There is no greater nobility of spirit than the union of a feeling, especially in dark times and collective mourning.

We already suffered that during the pandemic peaks of the Covid-19, also with the air disaster at the José Martí international airport, moments where the best of the Cuban always prevailed: their spirit of solidarity, their sincere empathy and their unconditional dedication, despite miseries and deficiencies.

So much nobility in pain conveys to us from various latitudes: from the stoicism of our aborigines, from Spanish chivalry, from African resilience, from Asian patience, from Moorish kindness and from our cultural ancestor, fundamentally Judeo-Christian.

That is why the lights and the shadows, that dialectical pair like life itself, that is why the communion of lights at 9:00 p.m., whether with candles, flashlights or cell phones in a minute of silence so strident that all of Cuba will illuminate its celestial vault.

Not only on this island of so many confluences, but across the seas, wherever there is a Cuban of good will, there will be a light of hope and commiseration, a light of solidarity and heartfelt pain, a light that will elevate the best of my country, my people, my society.

The most virtuous of nations because with every adversity it redeems its dignity, vindicates its loving union, defends those in need and sympathizes with its fellow men in the most frank and Christian blessing.

As bright and sparkling as the stars in the sky, it will always be the collective mourning of Cubans of good will.