Thierry Ingabire

1 The Symphony of the Peak I sit near the bridge. I see beautiful water moving smoothly, and hear sweet birds singing calmly. It means that there is a symphony orchestra, where do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do blend together in perfect harmony. I observe birds’ movement in unison; I am compelled to learn a music lesson from the beautiful universal creatures. I feel a splendid air blowing and passing through my thinking, and I hear a single word from the soul with a strong pitch, it says, “Will I win or lose?” My mind is in mayhem, hard to imagine that moment that comes by surprise. I take my satchel and grab a pen. I draw a simple flower; on the top I write the word lose, and at the root I write win. I put a question mark to each word. I take a short breath, observing the water, and the movement is somehow better. The water glows with a radiant blue and sways with a relentless power. In my mind, I hear an echo sound of the word again, “Will I win or lose?” I reopen the notebook and draw a big mountain, and place the image beside my recent flower. I grab a green pencil and a pink one; I paint the mountain green and the flower pink. Instantly, I hear a deep relief from my soul, telling me that I will win despite these storms. The soul begins an exuberant dialogue with me, and says, “You will win and hit the extraordinary mile.” “You climb the mountain with this drawn, beautiful flower. You hold it in your hands; it is rose-colored. 2 Sun, wind, and heavy storms try to weaken it while you hold it with your hand. You see how it faints on the ground, and you feel helpless in that hot moment. You come up with deep momentum to cover it with both your strong hands. No sun or wind can harm it again; the flower is invigorated, and the leaves turn rose. Your hands’ sweat waters the flower and makes it smell like rose perfume in that chaos, disarray continuum. You feel like it is time to end the journey because reaching the top of the mountain is hard. Your energy seems to drop, and your heart yearns to stop, wondering how long you will keep holding that flower. Your hands are sweating heavily; on the other side, the flower is enjoying a lot. Your sweat turns into the flower’s water; for you, to keep holding it is no better. You want to drop it and continue your journey, yet your heart tells you to grasp that smell. You feel like it is the moment to hold a second and dig into your subconscious for a profound truth. You find no answer to your question “Will I win or lose?” It is like a puzzle game where it is hard to pick any answer name.” I wake up immediately, looking around to see if there is anybody near the bridge. I shout, “Somebody here? Please, somebody!” The more I pronounce the word in a high pitch, it turns into a song in consonant harmony. I only hear birds singing in a call-and-response; there is nobody nearby in that elegant place. Water keeps moving ceaselessly; I observe the water and birds quietly. I glance on the other side to check my satchel, 3 and I find that my belongings are there. I feel a strong emotion and calmness. I ask myself the question again, “Will I win or lose?” And I hear a strong, quiet voice coming out from my inner soul saying “Yes,” in different pitches following the scale: do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do. I am compelled to hear that surprise. I look around, hoping to see someone to laugh with; I only see birds singing in tune. I check the flower and mountain I drew; In that place, different blossoms start to grow, Capturing wild aromas, fresh and new, Beneath the mountain's heavy peaks of snow. I grip the stem with zeal against the chill, For when it leaves my hand, my spirit fades. Though bitter sweat must fall upon the hill, A sacred fragrance rises through the shades. From that moment, I interact with nature and soul; I decide not to surrender. The mountain and flower help nurture my inner soul and lead me to a life of exuberance. And I whisper it softly, “yes, I will win.