Colombia, My Promised Land
Colombia, today I write with an open heart, because I cannot stay silent. Today, many march in silence, and though my body doesn’t allow me to join, I lift my voice through these words. I cannot ignore the sadness, the anger, and the concern after recent events—especially the attack on Miguel Uribe. It cuts deep to think that yet another family is facing the horror of possibly losing a father, a husband, as I once did. That kind of pain is indescribable, and no one should endure it.
Colombia, you welcomed me back as if I had never left. So generous, so warm, so full of contrasts. I returned and found familiar places and new ones too, but all of them spoke the language of my soul. Here I am once again, walking your streets, watching your people resist, dream, fight, and love— as only Colombians know how: with spirit, with music, with fire.
We spread across the world… Some searching for safety, others for better opportunities, and many of us, like me, found both. But we left pieces of our hearts behind, years without coming back, hugs left in suspense, flavors tucked into memory. And every time my vacations ended, I boarded the plane with a lump in my throat. That bittersweet ache only understood by those who have had to leave the land they love.
Young people may not fully grasp the fear of losing someone to violence, but I’m sure they don’t want to live it either. They’ve heard the stories from parents and grandparents— of stray bullets and broken dreams. That story must not repeat itself. We cannot get used to living in fear. We must protect life, respect our differences, and build through dialogue, not hate.
Today I write to say I love you, Colombia. I love you with everything I have. I love you with the strength of someone who returned and discovered even deeper roots. In every life I live, I want to be Colombian. Because despite the chaos, the injustice, the pain, this land remains a promise, it remains home, it remains life.
Source: Colombia, My Promised Land
