Sunflower

I'd like to say: You cannot know, unless you live it. You cannot understand, without experience. I do not understand, nor do I know, what it is like to live in a war zone. But I have seen its impact on friends whose homeland is all but barren. I'd like to say, before I write, that I have no true knowledge of your hurt. How this has impacted you from the start. But before I speak, I'd like you to know, I am writing this from the heart.

Barely past childhood, a young woman plants sunflowers. She waters them, the yellow contrast through the liquid tints it blue. She sees within this fountain, a vision. Her flag: hanging high, brightly colored, across the sky. Her people: at peace, safe, and free, not worrying about the thundering that flies overhead daily. Her country: a diverse place, open to all, with no walls, with trust. 

Her home.

She kneels down, unable to speak. The unspeakable things her people experience daily. And yet, they fight with hope. With courage. With purpose. With a vision. This vision. She knows then. The home is the people who fight for each other. For a world where peace is feasible. Her people will fight because they believe. Her people will not fall back.

She rises. She gathers the sun in her hands. She dares to stare at it. Not blinding, she sees its true heart. She sees its heart through its might. She sees how it will never falter, only grow.