That November 7, 2016, was an ordinary autumn day. A day that changes nothing and in which nothing changes, except perhaps the whimsical mood of autumn, which at times warms you with warm sun rays, and at times whips you with cold winds and large drops of rain. It was the day we lost you. You left quietly. So quiet that we only found out four days later that you were gone.
I’m ready my Lord
You prepared us for it. You told us with the last album that you are ready to “leave the table”. We were less prepared for that parting than you. We didn’t, because we didn’t know who would tell us “what happens to the heart”.
While it is very clear that you, just like us mortals, were often lost, the truth is that you were always looking for answers, for yourself, for us. And it’s just easier for us to leave that search to you, because you were so good at it.
If you’re wondering why we’re on your side, and we’ve never met or seen each other, it’s because we’ve heard each other. We heard you, not with our ears but with our hearts, and you heard all our fears, sorrows and concerns. You entered the homes of all the people who listened to you, with subtle tones and impeccable poetry.
All the women of the world were your Merijen and Suzanne at one point, and you were “our man”. You made us feel beautiful and loved. When you shed a tear singing “Stranger Song” you told us it’s okay to cry. When you sang about the “blue raincoat”, you told us that we should forgive and love without judgment.
Are your lessons done?
The posthumous album, which we are impatiently waiting for, is a gift we didn’t expect, which we probably don’t deserve, but we need.
Poetry, just like poets, is immortal. Maybe our time did not give birth to Federico García Lorca (after whom you named your daughter), nor Pablo Neruda, but it gave us one Leonard Cohen, a master of song who was dignified in suffering and magnificent in love.
And that’s why, this is not goodbye, this time there will be no tears, like the day when the world discovered that you are no longer among us. You are somewhere in infinity, at home, and we will always have a “teacher of the heart”.
Sincerely,
By Leonard Cohen
Source: balkanrock.com
