I Still Pray for Peace”

The world feels heavier these days.

You can hear it in the silence

after an explosion.

You can feel it in the pause

between headlines

and heartbreak.

Somewhere, a child falls asleep

to the sound of sirens instead of songs.

Somewhere, a mother counts the breaths

of the ones she has left,

praying this night won’t take more.

And I watch from afar —

not untouched,

but unable to undo the hurt.

Why can’t countries learn to plant seed

Instead of flag on foreign land.

I scroll through stories I can’t forget,

faces I’ll never meet,

names I’ll never pronounce,

and still, I ache for them.

Not because I’ve lived their pain,

but because I still believe

that someone should.

I am not on any side

except the side of peace.

I do not want revenge.

I do not want more walls,

more wounds,

more children learning hate

before they learn how to write their names.

I want the bombs to stop falling.

I want borders to soften

and arms to open.

I want silence to mean rest,

not aftermath.

I want love to speak louder

than sirens and fire.

I don’t know how to end wars,

but I know how to hold hope.

And so I write,

because sometimes words

are all I have

to keep the light alive

a little longer.

To say:

I see you.

I mourn with you.

And I still believe

in a day where no one’s grief

is louder than their laughter.

I still pray for peace.

With every word.

With all my heart.