I come to offer my heart

I was walking down the street and unfortunately it fell to me to witness a terrible accident, a man badly injured, someone needed to notify the family, but the man was carrying no ID. A young woman arrived, came closer, and when she saw the injured man she began to scream, it's my father, crying. All of this lasted an hour but I lived it like a thousand hours. I walked away and thought, I have nothing to lose, it's all just about living.

The street was a celebration, lots of people, it was a sunny Sunday, I stopped at the plaza where a group of young people were brightening things up singing, and when they asked for contributions they explained that the money was being collected for the neighborhood soup kitchens. Someone in the crowd started singing "I come to offer my heart," people joined in and an improvised choir formed to accompany the kids singing. One person in the crowd, who was using a cane, tapped out the rhythm on the ground with it, while saying this is the life I've got left, I hope my grandchildren sing me this song when I die. The kids went on playing light music.

I went on my way, the contrast between life and death on the very same street, only a short distance apart, stayed with me. I passed an empty lot bordered by a wall, painted by those street artists who paint out of love, I don't know if the painting showed pagan images, I don't know about art, but I thought, this is our present, some decorate the city and other vandals destroy it, breaking monuments, dirtying the fronts of buildings, that's why I keep repeating, I come to offer my heart.