Teodros Kiros - The Song Writer

The Song Writer

26 October, 2009 | Teodros Kiros (PhD)

He sits on a rock that has long carved out a space for itself for thousands of
years and he thinks that humans are born to die, whereas rocks and stones are
forever.

He is silent, as the wind kisses his cheeks and his face is burdened with these
sad thoughts, but he cannot stop their rapid visits.

While he busily pushes away bad thoughts, his daughter storms out from their
home, and says,“ What are you thinking about, Dad? ” and flings her slender
body right on his lap. He smiles generously.

“ Life. baby,” he said. “ Life.” he repeats and hugs his daughter. Shortly his
daughter goes back to the house and he is left alone to think.

He had long dreamt about composing a song on Death, and he felt as if
something were pressuring him do it now.

“Now, or never,” he said. Then he looks at the floor.

He bent down to massage his aching foot, which had been giving him trouble
for a while. Many of his friends had advised him to see a doctor. He had
decided against it. He was fond of saying that if he had to die from this
complication, and then it was meant to be. That for him, death would be a
blessing, and one would never fight it. He had always said that God takes
only those whom he loves.

In fact, that becomes the first line of the song he begins to write.

“God takes only those whom he loves”.

He takes a deep breath, and peers inside their house, thinking about the family.

A bird flies by him, and another robin followed, then another. Suddenly, the
birds fill the sky, and he had to gaze and drink their songs.

He took the notepad, and wrote,

No worry, people
No need to be afraid of death
You will be in the company of God
After you take your last breath 
He wants you back
Back to where you came from.
Sit silently like a pebble stone
And you and him shall be one.

Death is a blessing,
but it is not a choice
Death is a blessing,
and so we rejoice!”
“
Death is a blessing and so we rejoice!

He put the notepad down and closes his eyes.

He read the song again, rubbed his hands, and put the notepad in his pocket.
As he began walking towards home, he looked up the sky, and the moon had
just appeared, and the day was turning in to evening.
As he was walking home, he sung the new song, and his face turned red and
the wrinkles on his cheeks were barely visible.