I wrote this in my diary the first day of June of this year. Originally written in Slovak, I had translated it to English to share with someone close to me. I’ve debated if or when I should share this publicly, recently supposing now is just as good of time as any.
“A Letter to My Strength in Sicily” – June 1st, 2017
It’s an incredible love passed from an old man through me, to a young man he never knew; but he knows him still as he exists in the soul that pulses and breathes in the form of exponential generations that journey through a labyrinth too winding to bend the will.
That young man, once briefly left the side of a woman of whom he rightfully holds as more than sacred (and now all the more since within her, their joining will birth their life with the hope they will be carried beyond their years) because he loves me.
He trusts the result will be worth the torment of exposure to the harsh elements of pages turning with echoes of the voice of a mother he can never again hold; the mother who extinguished his early childhood agony with her touch and with flower petals in his water when he cleansed for every Shacharit she gave him, and painfully birthed his life from her soul so that he may have stillness and peace that could never rot from his bones.
In his bereavement, He ripped at his soul given from this buried mother for the sake of the only parent he has left. He trusts the strength wrought from generational agony would sustain him, empowering his wings affixed with waxed hope. From the core of his being he now tells me that, just for a moment, he chased a light and flew; but now he’s fallen because he feels he flew too close to the sun.
If only my voice could reach my sweet boy turned fatherly man so I can tell him that his only mistake in this is that he sees me as his likeness so much that he forgets he is himself. Roles have a way of switching themselves around amidst the clouds of confusion.
My strength, my hope, my love that exceeds my capacity of life… You are not this assumed reflection of me you have taken up on my behalf. You are much stronger than that.
This familiarity is no mythical story. I’ll rise from the sea named for me and reach you again someday, if I will be so welcomed upon your shore.
— With love, Icarus