In Search of Light

I was not born in the light.

Darkness was my earliest companion.

It taught me silence,

It taught me about pain, It taught me how to breathe in shadows

And listen to what others ignored.

Where others saw emptiness, I saw echoes.

Where others turned away, I paused.

There, amidst the dust and broken dreams,

I planted seeds of hope—

Not for applause, but for healing.

I was warned, “To chase the light is to risk being burned,

To walk alone is to get lost.”

I continued to walk. Yes, I burned.

Yes, I lost.

But in that burning, I became something new—

Not ash, but flame.

I am a silent warrior.

I do not carry a sword,

I carry questions.

I do not raise my voice to command,

I raise it to understand.

My battles are quiet—

Fought within pages,

Between lines of poetry,

Inside classrooms where forgotten children dare to dream.

In hospitals where hope hangs by a thread,

In homes where love feels like war.

I have seen—

Eyes that hold hunger,

scarred hearts that no one can see. I've heard laughter that disguises sorrow, Smiles stitched together with sorrow.

The kind of sorrow that doesn’t scream,

But sits quietly at school benches and dinner tables. Once, a little boy asked me,

“Will my voice ever matter?”

And I could not lie.

But I told him,

“If you keep speaking, the world will one day listen.”

And I promised to keep writing—

So that even the smallest voice would have a place to live.

I have walked long,

Not on gold-paved streets, But on stones of hardship,

On bridges of belief,

Through storms of doubt and winds of fear.

And every step I took, I left behind footprints

Not in sand, but in souls who dared to believe again.

In my hands—no medals.

On my walls—no certificates.

But in my soul—

A quiet fire that refuses to die.

A light that is unseen,

Yet unextinguished.

I do not seek the stage.

I don't look for cameras' light. The light I yearn for— Is the kind that lives within us,

The kind we share when no one is watching.

The kind that whispers, not shouts.

That listens, not just speaks.

If you’ve ever held someone’s hand in silence,

If you’ve ever chosen kindness when it was hard,

If you’ve ever fallen and still tried again—

Then you, too, are in search of light.

This poem is not just mine.

It belongs to everyone who walks with wounds,

To those who speak softly but love loudly.

It belongs to those who build without recognition,

who give without anticipating recompense. To teachers who never stop believing,

To nurses who whisper comfort at midnight,

To parents who stay strong when their world crumbles.

I offer these words not as wisdom,

But as a mirror.

May you see your reflection here.

And may it remind you—

That your journey matters.

That your light is real.

that not even the tiniest candle Can hold back the vastest dark.

You are not alone in your walk.

The path is long, yes—

But look around—

So many others carry their own flames,

And collectively, We can't be stopped.

Note from Author

This poem, “In Search of Light,” came to life during moments of inner stillness and outward chaos. It was written for the invisible warriors, people who don't have titles but change the world by showing up with love repeatedly. I have always believed that true strength is quiet, and true light does not blind—it guides. While this poem may seem personal, it echoes countless unheard voices across classrooms, hospitals, homes, and battlefields of the soul.