I am a devoted early riser enchanted by the magic of sunrise. In the early morning quiet, when the world is still wrapped in a soft dawn, nature unfolds its wonders. The first rays of sunlight gently touch the Earth, turning everything into a serene and beautiful sight. It’s like a magical moment that brings a bit of comfort to my heart.But, even in this magical moment, there’s a stark contrast between the beauty of the sunrise and the sadness that hangs over our world.
In the tapestry of my existence, I have lots of wishes and dreams, like different patterns in a big piece of cloth. Each one is like a little flame that means something special. These flames make me do things and give up other things to chase them. But no matter how hard I try, the wanting inside me never goes away.
As the sun rises, warming everything around, a twinge of sadness creeps into my heart. It feels like a dark cloud settling over me when I think about all the terrible things happening globally. The peaceful and pretty scene in front of me stands in stark contrast to the harsh realities of fights and troubles happening far and wide. In the quietness, I can hear distant sounds of conflict and the silent cries of people caught in the middle. It’s a mix of feeling at peace and feeling deeply saddened.
One day, I find myself donning different roles in the grand theater of life. I wake up to different responsibilities , seamlessly transitioning to the role of a memory creator. My passion for writing takes center stage on some days, while my expertise in business and design kicks in on others. I dedicate moments to supporting friends and family, embrace the identity of a charity enthusiast, and, without fail, assume the role of a mother every day. Yet, being a mother makes the pain even stronger.
While I find joy in caring for my own children, the heart-wrenching scenes of countless innocent children, women, and men being brutally killed in the cruel stage of war haunt me.
In the comforting embrace of motherhood, where my own children bring immeasurable joy, there exists a confusing mix. My heart echoes with the haunting cries of innocent lives—brutally torn apart in the merciless theater of war. The irony is stark and bitter, as the very notions of religion, race, customs, culture, belief, and, perhaps most ironically, land , become the catalysts for unspeakable brutality.
Questions linger, haunting my thoughts like a relentless shadow. Who were these individuals? What transgressions warranted such unfathomable suffering? Were they accountable for the conflicts that enveloped them? The answers remain elusive, lost in the chaos of war and the profound injustices perpetrated in its name.
As I pen these words, it is not confined to any specific race, religion, or faith; it is an anguished plea for every precious life lost in the relentless tide of violence. Each soul, regardless of its background, deserves acknowledgment and remembrance, and it is with this solemn intent that I bear witness to the silent cries of the innocent, etching their stories into the tapestry of human history.
In the quiet moments of the night, my mind drifts into a dream where my home becomes a haven for those in need, a sanctuary away from the scary battles that rage outside. Once upon a time, the world felt like a warm and friendly place, where kindness was the language everyone spoke. But now, there’s a chill in the air, and the world seems colder and less caring.
Despite all the troubles, I find inspiration in the people trapped in these difficult situations. They hold on to hope like a precious gem, even when everything around them is falling apart. In the depths of my dream, I ask a simple question: Can’t we just be humans to each other? Can’t we treat everyone with kindness, no matter where they come from or what they believe? Isn’t it enough to be human, embracing the love that God and humanity call for?
It sounds simple, but sometimes it feels like the hardest thing in the world. In my quest for peace, I cling to the hope I find in the resilience of those facing tough times. They become a beacon of light, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that war brings. And as I awaken from this dream, I carry that hope with me, a reminder that even in the toughest times, humanity’s strength and kindness can be a guiding light toward a better world.
The world, once a place of shared humanity, now appears indifferent, testing my belief in the goodness of humanity.The story of war unfolds across the world, where innocent people, who haven’t done anything wrong, suffer a great deal. It doesn’t matter where they’re from or what they believe; these people, specifically kids, just want a simple right – the right to live. The people causing all the trouble don’t seem to care about being fair or kind, and that really hurts. I find myself wishing there were rules to protect these people regardless of their religion, race or culture and ensure everyone is treated with kindness and fairness.
As the story unfolds its final chapter, a dream persists within me. I imagine a special dawn, a dawn where the word “hate” has disappeared from our conversations. Picture a world where safety is woven into the air, and hearts dance together in kindness and love. In this magical tale, we all transform into ambassadors of peace, spreading harmony far and wide.Let’s keep this dream alive, carried on the wings of hope and whispered across the realms, yearning for the arrival of that extraordinary day.
With the anticipation that the upcoming year will usher in hope and peace.
Much love & be kind.
Republishing with Permission by Author Ranna Matteen December 20, 2023. Originally Published on LinkedIn.
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