In the far corners of this world, there are souls worn down by exhaustion, burdened by the weight of suffering, and sipping from the bitter cup of sorrow one drop at a time. Silent cries rise from these souls, whispers too faint to be heard beyond the crumbling walls of their shattered spirits. We see them, we sense them, and yet our hands feel tied — like trying to embrace smoke as it vanishes into the wind. How can we reach those whose cries we cannot hear and whose tears we cannot see?
Our predicament resembles that of a poet standing on the shore of a stormy sea, holding a fragile candle against the roaring wind. He knows its faint glow will not stop the waves, will not restore breath to those lost beneath the depths. Yet, he lights it. He lights it because it is a testimony to hope, a declaration of humanity, a refusal to surrender to darkness — even when it seems infinite. Is there an echo to this candle’s flame, dear readers?
Somewhere, a mother cradles a child who cannot sleep — not because the child is unwilling, but because an empty stomach screams louder than the silence of the night. Somewhere, a man digs the earth with his bare hands, seeking the faintest promise of sustenance for his family. Somewhere else, a child leans against the ruins of a home turned to rubble by war, clutching memories that can no longer shield him from the cold.
These are not merely fleeting news stories or passing headlines; they are the heartbeats of lives struggling to stay afloat. They are voices waiting for someone, anyone, to hear them. But we, dear readers, are paralysed by helplessness. The pain carves deeply into our hearts like a thousand knives, and yet our hands feel empty. How can we save those swallowed by the abyss when we have no lifeboats to reach them? How can we extend solace to those whose names we do not know, whose faces we have never seen, but whose presence we feel so profoundly?
One might ask: What good is a candle against an ocean’s fury? What use is its flickering light in an endless darkness? But, the power of the candle lies not in its ability to conquer the sea, but in its steadfast refusal to succumb to the night.
Remember the words of Rabindranath Tagore: “Every time the winds extinguish a flame, it sparks anew elsewhere.” The candle may not save everyone, but it can send a thread of hope — a whisper carried by the waves—to reach a hand that needs it, to touch a heart that waits in silence.
Is there an echo, dear readers?
When you light a candle, when you write a word, when you extend a hand — even if it feels small or insignificant — you are not only casting light into the lives of others, but also into your own. The echo of small acts is mysterious and immeasurable. A single word written here might reach a distant corner of the world, opening a window in someone’s heart and inspiring them to light their own candle.
This is how light begins its journey — quietly, steadily, and inevitably.
We are not called to save the entire world, but we are called to try. To carry our candles and light them, even when the winds rage. To write about peace in the face of war, about hope in the face of despair, about light in the face of darkness. This is what the pens of Gandhi, Tolstoy, and Rumi did — they turned their words into vessels of hope, sailing across time and space.
So, my dear readers, is there an echo to my candle’s flame? Is there a hand that will reach out to carry this light with me? Let us all become small candles, illuminating paths in defiance of the shadows. For no matter how deep the darkness, it can never extinguish the light of a candle.

A Heartfelt Dedication
I share with you a painting I created years ago, during a moment when I felt that war had begun to steal the very beats of my heart, unravelling the threads of hope within me. It was a moment of realising that pain knows no borders, and that the wounds of conflict extend beyond the land, reaching deep into the souls of those who witness it.
I painted it with a heavy heart, yet one filled with a sincere hope that every heart might one day beat with compassion, and that goodness may prevail among all humanity. Let this new year, 2025, be a turning point for hope, a canvas for purity, and a renewed covenant with our shared humanity.
Wishing you all a year filled with light that no darkness can extinguish.
  • Rawda al-Amri is a seasoned author and creative artist, known for her captivating novels and unique storytelling that intertwines cultural heritage with contemporary themes.