What sunflowers teach us about hope

They are a symbol of a nation that refuses to be broken

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, THERE WAS A FIELD NEAR MY HOME where sunflowers grow. Today I see thay they were not just flowers: they were witnesses.

Because they stand tall, their golden faces turned toward the sun, as if they know something we often forget: no matter how dark the night, the light will return.

They remember. They always go in the direction of light.

I write this not just as a Ukrainian, but as a soul who has felt the weight of war, the ache of loss, and the fragile hope that somehow, someday, the light will find us again. My country, Ukraine, is the land of sunflowers. They grow in our fields, line our roads, and fill our hearts with their quiet resilience.

They are a symbol of life, of endurance, of a spirit that refuses to be broken.

When the war came, it brought darkness. That kind of darkness that makes us question whether the sun will ever rise again. But even in the darkest moments, we Ukrainians think of the sunflowers, because they do not hesitate. They do not turn away.

They rise each morning, stretching their faces toward the light, to remind us the way.

I have seen my people become like sunflowers. We may have been bent by the storms of war, but we have not broken. We will never be broken. Sometimes it may seems that we have been buried in the soil of sorrow, but we have not forgotten how to grow. We turn our faces toward the light, even when the light feels far away.

We remember the direction of the light.

To those of you reading this in America, Canada, Australia, Europe, or anywhere else in the world, I want you to know something: war is not just about bombs and bullets. It is about the quiet moments in between. It is about the mother who tucks her child into bed, whispering promises of a better tomorrow. It is about the farmer who plants seeds in soil that may one day be torn apart by tanks. It is about the sunflowers that continue to grow, even in the shadow of destruction.

I think often of those of you who have lived long enough to know that life is both fragile and resilient. You have seen wars, too. In country or abroad, it doesn't matter too much. You have known loss. You understand what it means to hold on to hope when hope feels like the hardest thing to hold.

To you, I say: the sunflowers remember. They remember because they must. And so do we.

Did you know that the sunflower follows the sun, even on cloudy days? This is a truth that carry the weight of centuries. We are a people who have known many cloudy days. But we are also a people who believe in the sun.

We believe in the light. We believe in the promise of a new dawn.

The flowers sway gently in the breeze, their faces turned toward the horizon. They do not know war. They do not know fear. They only know light.

And in their quiet, steadfast way, they teach us how to live.

We, Ukrainians, are sunflowers.

We are rooted in a land that has known both beauty and pain. We are reaching for the light, even when the darkness tries to pull us down.

And you, dear reader, I say this: remember the sunflowers.

Remember their quiet strength, their faith in the light. And if you ever feel lost in the darkness, look to them. They will show you the way.

For as long as there are sunflowers, there is hope.

And as long as there is hope, there is light.

🌻

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