A flake of snow got blown by the wind. It landed on colourless debris; on provisional hospitals; on stranded vessels; and on tired faces.
Its sparkle did not last long. A bomb evaporated it in its blasting thunder. The steel sheds melted it under the desert sun. The cold water swallowed it in the anxious pursuit of an uncertain future.
But before it disappeared, it shined in the eyes of the children that survived. It decorated the last tree that struggled to keep its arms open. And guided the way for those whom the unknown is the only escape.
It was not an illusion, nor the desperate cry of a falling swan. The flake was blown by the wind of hope, the only force that keeps the sails of humanity open.
One should not wait for Christmas, any definition of Christmas, for a smile to light up a child’s face. But if even just this can be achieved, it is worth it. For a better future, on an earth that should not only be defined by pain.