Mother, Homeland of Hope

“In the heart of darkened nights, my mother became my hope. With a
gaze both warm and radiant, she stood as the sun. In her heart, our
homeland sang a tale of light, of new paths yet not begun. My land bears
wounds from axes carved with lies and stealth, yet my mother softly
tells me, “A strange bright dawn will come.” Though the soil is dry and
cracked, my land hides a story still, even within the ruined depths,
hope will not succumb. In my mother’s eyes, like cypress trees, each
broken dream stands tall again. For her smile, I swear an oath — our
broken home will rise anew, with her silent, sacred prayers, even ruins
will flower and bloom.”