Saad Hariri won and then cried next to his father’s tomb. So did Nayla Tueni and Nadim Bashir Gemayel. Sami Gemayel won and then cried next to the tomb of his brother Pierre. Sleiman Tony Frangieh won and then was flooded with memories and tears.

The country’s scenes are heartbreaking.

Every winner is welcomed by tears – searing tears that burn the joy of victory.

Hezbollah achieved a sweeping victory at the heart of its community. The Shiites voted for the stream of martyrs. Walid Kamal Jumblatt achieved a sweeping victory at the heart of his community. The Druzes voted for their first martyr and all those who followed. Samir Geagea knows that the Lebanese Forces supporters voted for their first martyr and all those who followed. The same can be said of Amine Gemayel and Dory Chamoun.

The country’s scenes are heartbreaking.

In Sidon, the martyr’s sister competed with the martyr’s son. In Tripoli a martyr’s supporters competed with a martyr’s brother. In Zghorta a martyr’s son competed with a martyr’s son.

The winner was flooded with memories and tears. The loser was flooded with memories and tears. It is as if the country were a jungle of martyrs and of tears.

From Marouf Saad in 1975 to Wissam Eid in 2008… a river of martyrs. This one defended the country’s borders. This other one defended his existence in it. That one defended the borders of his freedom. That other one defended the borders of his fears or vision. Strong men turned into weak men by the great game. Free men turned into prisoners. Brave men turned into martyrs. How we wished for the martyr we were burying to be the last martyr. But he wasn’t. We renewed our wish after a new martyr and our disappointment was renewed.