By Ragad Mohamed
إلى ليبيا، يا موطني الأول والأبدي
Dear Libya,
Where do I even begin when writing to a place that has always held a piece of my heart?
How can I fit an entire homeland into a few pages? How can I describe a love that existed long before I knew how to put it into words?
Libya, you are more than a country on a map. You are a feeling. You are the warmth of the sun resting over your golden deserts, the sound of the sea whispering against your shores, the beauty of your old streets, and the stories carried by every stone, every doorway, and every generation before us.
You are the scent of freshly made bread drifting through the neighbourhood, the sound of family gatherings, the laughter that fills a home, the familiar voices speaking our beautiful Arabic, and the hospitality that makes even a stranger feel like family.
Oh, Libya, if only your streets could speak, what stories they would tell. Stories of courage, of patience, of generations who dreamed, struggled, loved, and built their lives beneath your skies. Your history is written not only in books and monuments, but in the hearts of your people.
I wonder if the Mediterranean Sea knows how lucky it is to hold your shores. I wonder if the stars shine a little brighter above your mountains and deserts. And I wonder if the moon knows that somewhere beneath its light, millions of hearts beat with love for you.
From Tripoli to Benghazi, from Misrata to Sabha, every corner carries its own beauty, its own memories, and its own story. You are a thousand different landscapes, yet one unforgettable home.
And Libya, there is something I want you to know: distance could never erase belonging. Even when life takes us far away, there is a part of us that remains with you. A part that remembers. A part that longs for the familiar. A part that hears your name and feels something words cannot quite explain.
I hope that one day your skies will know nothing but peace. I hope your children will grow up dreaming without fear, that your streets will be filled with laughter, and that your future will be as beautiful as the land you have always been.
I hope the world sees you not only for what you have endured, but for everything you are: your beauty, your culture, your generosity, your history, and the extraordinary people who call you home.
If I could give you anything, Libya, I would give you a future as bright as your golden sunsets. I would give you endless peace, happiness in every home, and a thousand reasons for your people to smile.
And if someone ever asks me where home is, I hope I never struggle to answer.
Home is where my roots belong.
Home is where my heart recognizes its own language.
Home is where the memories of generations live on.
Home is Libya.
You are my yesterday, my heritage, and a part of every tomorrow I dream of.
No matter how many horizons I see, no matter how many places I visit, there will always be one land that carries a name no other place can replace.
Libya, you are not simply where I come from. You are a part of who I am.
With endless love, pride, and prayers for your beautiful future,
Your daughter, forever.