French la Vie

The bare branches reach up yearning for the sunlight 
while birds call to each other, sensing change in the air
A violette emerges from the dry earth—small,
yet defiant against the weight of winter.
It is a promise that no season lasts forever,
that even the harshest cold cannot bury all things.

The world outside is heavy with silence,
as nations turn away, hands withheld,
Lives are lost, crushed beneath the weight of our neglect,
at times light feels distant, unreachable.
A single flower pushing up from the ground,
a leaf trembling on a branch—
nature showing us resistance,
tiny sparks that refuse to be extinguished.
Perhaps this is the essence of hope:
not in grand gestures or sweeping changes,
but in the quiet persistence of life,
in the way the earth refuses to forget how to heal.

Even in the darkest corners of the world,
the spring is undeniable.