mylightspirit

The magic hour and the beauty of sunrise and sunset, the moonlight casting its charm on the window, the sparkling stars piercing the dark night, chasing the clouds, and gazing at a full moon; these fleeting reflections of nature framed by windows bringing peace to the house. The laughter and warmth of gatherings, the safety within those walls… these are the moments I cherish most when reflecting on a year that has passed, as a new one begins.

Strikes, roaring planes, blackened skies, and rising flames. The acrid stench of gunfire and explosions, the house trembling under the weight of violence.  Arriving smoke from behind the buildings, collapsing buildings, and shattered dreams. Peace crushed by the unrelenting echoes of rockets, the suffocating smell of destruction invading our homes.

As I reflect on 2024, I grasp for fragments of what once made me feel safe, what brought me happiness. Those magical moments of joy, the simple views through the window, family, and safety seem distant now, overshadowed by the terror we’ve endured. We’ve lived through apocalyptic scenes, where the sound of rockets and planes became an unwelcome norm. Nights passed with an indisposed uncertainty: would there be a morning?  The night breeze carried the aroma of devastation. Reconciling with this is not normal, nor is the fear of hearing a familiar name among the lost or suffering.

In this first week of the new year, while others compile lists of accomplishments, plans, and goals, my mind lingers on a different thought: that first cup of coffee with my love by the sea on the morning of the ceasefire.

We may have survived once again, but did we truly? Physically, we are safe, but our souls bear wounds that will take a long time to heal.

We reflect with hearts racing, breaths quickened by panic. Forgive us if the goals and resolutions haven’t been set yet. We’ve been busy surviving.