Stories of silence and sun

Walking through the Levanzo cemetery

by Camomilla

I like walking, absorbed in my thoughts, for the paths of the cemetery where many faces unknown to me rest. Silence ... respect ... and so much serenity, these are the sensations I feel. In a world and a time when we want or always have to run, I have learned to stop.

In this place I do not see death, I see peace.

I also believe that no one has ever really died as long as he lives inside us. Here you can perceive your memory by simply walking, letting your gaze catch the names engraved on the graves and by the nature that keeps their stories attentive.

Here in the small Levanzo the cemetery is monumental, an enchanted place, and the sight of the blue sea is as far as the eye can see. I love listening in silence to that lapping that caresses the shore. Sweet is the song of water, whispers for the dead sweet melodies. I stop to admire the caper plants born spontaneously among the graves and the various walls. Some plants are still in bloom, four white petals, with pink hues and long purple stamens.

But soon the flowers will wilt to return then lush in May.

In the course of our existence we can not always hope to get what we want, or to become who we would like.

Only from the dead can we find out who we were alive, from the words that maybe someone thinks appropriate to have our headstone engraved. A seal of all that we have represented.

But it is to be hoped that those who want to remember us do not need too many words. Those who have been capable of true feelings do not need them in life.

As I walk through this sun-kissed white stone, I too gather emotions and try to translate them into words. But there is no need. There is already silence, and there is the wind and the sea. The soundtrack could not be better.


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