By: Dr. Adnan Bozan 

O homeland, the ceiling you have built over our heads has become lower than it should be, forcing our foreheads to bow unwillingly and our shoulders to curve under the weight of the narrowing space between earth and sky. It feels as if we are walking through low corridors, afraid to stand upright lest we collide with your crumbling roof.

I once thought that nations built their ceilings to shelter their children from the winds of exile, only to realize that some homelands become prisons, their ceilings turning into walls that stifle voices before they can find their echoes. How can I lift my head to see the light when, if I do, I crash into the walls of my own homeland? How can one be free when every movement is restricted by a ceiling crafted by those who were supposed to elevate it?

O homeland, do not ask me to bow further, for my ancestors before me have bent enough. They passed down to me a stature that stands straight, bending only to the One worthy of prostration. Do not ask me to pretend that the sky is near, that your collapsing ceiling is an unchangeable fate. Do not ask me to shrink my thoughts, to lower my voice, or to bow my head in the presence of this stifling roof so as not to disturb those who built it. I do not ask for the impossible—I do not seek to reach the clouds—I only ask that you raise your ceiling a little so that I may lift my head without fear.

O homeland, how many minds have you buried? How many dreams have you shackled? How many voices have you silenced? Not because you are cruel by nature, but because you lacked the courage to raise your ceiling just a little. Is it not time to realize that nations do not thrive on those who remain bowed, and that life is granted only to those who seek it with pride? Is it not time to understand that high walls do not protect but rather isolate, and that low ceilings do not provide security but suffocate?

A true homeland is one that raises its ceiling in proportion to the ambitions of its people—not one that forces them to stoop beneath it. A real homeland is one whose sky is vast enough to embrace their dreams—not one that confines them within the limits of a narrow ceiling. So either raise your ceiling, O homeland, or we shall seek another sky beneath which we can lift our heads as we wish.

Add comment