I would die for this land—for its moonrises and sunsets, for its people and poets, for its stories and realities, for its sacrifices and sacredness.

I would bleed for its soil, for the hands that built its homes, for the stories that echo through its streets, for the dreams carved into its mountains, for the prayers carried by its winds.

I would stand for its honor, for the ink that shaped its history, for the mothers who buried their sons, for the silence that mourns the unmarked graves, for the love that outlives war.

I would break for this land—for those who stayed, for those who left, for those who were never given a choice.

For the rivers that carry names no one remembers, for the earth that buries secrets no one speaks of, for the sky that still waits for a homecoming. I will die for this land.

— Sadia Hakim  // Letters Unsent