The Silence of the Skies

This is a letter of a tired soul, to the One who knows the depth of every tear. A plight between midnight skies and silent prayers.

Note: I know many might disagree if they have a different view of God, but if you’re reading this, then read it not through the lens of belief or disbelief, but as a heart that has known pain and longs for healing. Read it as someone who has cried silently at night, hoping someone out there was listening.

Read it for the person who was feeling the pain and pleading with His Creator.

Copyright © 2025 Sanya Kurd

How does it feel to live a purposeless life?

To wake up every single morning and adhere to some unrealistic wishes.

To live a cycle of uncertainty with every breath one inhales.

To shed tears inside the heart without knowing the reason why.

To think that the next day will be better and productive, only to repeat the same loop when it comes.

Trying to get stuff done but seeing all of your energy draining out without even lifting a hand.

Yes, it is very difficult to live when you don't see a point of living .

It's hard to see yourself being messy in the mirror every day. It's tough to look at dirt all over your body and try to hold back tears.

It isn't easy.

Seeing yourself in a condition that your teenage version didn't ever dream of, is painful.

My empty eyes are full of sorrow but I can't even shed a tear. It hurts more than crying. When you want to let it all out but somehow you're numb, you feel an intense amount of agony and stiffness inside your chest, that squeezes your ribs to your very last breath, but still, doesn't take out your soul.

It hurts more than anything, I swear.
I wake up every day to the same cycle of hope and hopelessness. I try to stay strong, but the sadness consumes me bit by bit. I look at everyone with empty eyes, full of hopes and dreams. I see them having everything. It becomes my breaking point. The emptiness, the deprivation eats away my strength. At that point, I can’t take it anymore, tears roll down my cheeks like they’ve been waiting for a door. People around me remain unaware of my pain. I hide from them. I hide my pain from them. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’ve tried and it has done no good for me. I have no one to call upon. No one responds to my call.

It’s hard to live with this heaviness that has taken away my beautiful youth, leaving me with baggy eyes, torn clothes, and worn-out hopes. This uncertainty consumes me. It bruises my willpower and throws me into the dungeons of darkness. It makes me doubt my life. It makes me doubt my decisions.

I see my hands with teary eyes… empty, desperate, craving for an affectionate touch. I look around but find no one. I call out to people, but many refuse to listen. Some extend their hands. I hold them. Then they too, after moments of holding, pull their hands away. After all, no one has the time to stay.

When abandoned by everyone, I kneel down. I think of it as a plan. That I had no one, and God made me fall on my knees, a perfect position to pray. I pray to God for my situation to become easier.

I call upon my Lord, Who gives life to barren land by ripping open its chest and growing beautiful sunflowers from it,
Who is closer than the jugular vein.
Who brings out the day from the captivity of darkness.
Who tells me to be among the righteous by responding to trials.
Who nurtures a child inside the womb of a mother.

Who created the tenderness of a mother’s heart.
Who creates a fetus like a leech and then molds it into a beautiful face.

Who fills the breasts of a mother when her child is about to born.

Who guides the child to cry whenever he is hungry.
Who created colors in the wings of a butterfly.

Who guides the birds to make a nest from strings and stones.

Who guides the little chicks to wipe their mouth by rubbing their beaks against the floor.

Who taught the penguin father to starve in the cold, cradling the fragile egg on frozen feet until life blooms.

Who guides the mother duck as she guards her ducklings, pretending to have a broken wing to trick predators and lead them away.

Who created mountains as pegs.

Who created might of a lion.

Who wove a web of stars in the sky.

Who created the infinite number of galaxies.
Who holds the balance of each galaxy.
Who built the sky without pillars.
Who feeds a creature deep in the ocean.
Who has fixed a share of sustenance for every being.
Who hears the plea of every desperate soul.
Who knows that I am alone.
Who knows I am weak.
Who is Omnipotent, Who subdues everything.
Who is Everlasting, the Most High, the Supreme.

I call Him by all His beautiful names, hoping that He’ll hear me. I prostrate. I pray. I hold His signs close to my chest as an act of faith. I tell Him everything I couldn’t hold in. I cry in front of Him. I open my vulnerability to Him. I scream and weep to seek His help. I call Him amidst hopelessness.
He was with every soul who chanted His name.
In the hope of His assistance, I also say my prayers.

But I hear no answer. I scream, and my voice echoes back in my ears. It scratches my eardrums. It deafens me.

This shakes my faith. It makes me afraid. I think about the path that I’m walking.

How do I know what I’m doing is right?
How do I know the path I’ve chosen will lead me to my destination?

Sometimes this uncertainty frustrates me deeply.

We keep saying, “Maybe God has approved this for us,”
but do we truly believe, deep inside, that this is what God has actually approved?

This thought troubles me a lot.

How can I be sure that the path I’m on is the one God has chosen for me?

But if God hasn’t chosen this path for me,
then why am I still walking on it?

Sometimes the silence of the skies pierces my heart.

I wish God would tell me somehow through a written sign, a voice…
that this is the path. Keep walking on it.

Sometimes I doubt my own perception.

These thoughts come from my skeptical brain.
These thoughts make my footsteps stumble.
But I keep standing.
I keep walking.

Even though there’s darkness everywhere, I see a flicker of light of His name.

It keeps getting distant as I step ahead but I keep walking. I don’t know where it’ll lead me, but I know one thing;

It’ll take me to a place where my heart will find peace, whether I find it now or whether I spend centuries covering the miles. Whether alive, whether dead, the Light of the Face of my Lord, will guide me.

Thank you so much for reading this piece, you beautiful soul :)

Whether you believe, question, or simply feel, your presence here means more than anything. May we all find light in the dark, and strength in the silence.

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Background: Several studies have shown a strong inverse relationship between religious belief and suicide rates. One of the most comprehensive is a meta-analysis by Wu, Wang, and Jia (2015) published in PLOS ONE, which found that individuals who are religious are significantly less likely to commit suicide. Religion provides a sense of meaning, community support, and moral discouragement against suicide, all of which contribute to emotional resilience. This research helps underline the protective role that faith and spiritual connection can play in mental health.

I know you won’t but still I’ll say that do check out My Novel

It is based on the story of June, a 21-year-old Lebanese-Iranian girl, who feels caged by the conservative traditions of her village. She breathes freely only through her words—her poetry. After the death of her mother, Mira, she wrestles with deep loneliness, until she connects with someone who changes the way she thinks about life… without even meeting her.

I’m writing two books. One is my novel and other is my poetry book. I also plan to write a third book on subjects like this post.

Here are few of my posts if you’re interested in my work.

Why Me

They Hide From You

Why Do I Write About Love

Rage

Dad! Don’t Marry Me

Your Eyes

The Cage

Thank you for your time, love!