There is a truth called the innocent children of war and at Christmas, Santa has never learned their names.

Christmas Eve is not the same everywhere.

In one part of the world, light gathers gently around a table. Candles burn without fear. Laughter rises easily. Children fall asleep knowing the morning will come as promised.

In another part of the same world, the night arrives without warning. Homes collapse into memory. The sky does not bring snow, but fire. And children learn far too early how tightly you must hold on to someone when everything else is falling apart.

There is no line between these worlds. No wall. No border. Only distance and silence.

We celebrate peace as a tradition, while others pray for it as a miracle. We wrap gifts, while some children wrap their arms around each other, hoping it will be enough.

This image is not meant to accuse. It is meant to remind. Because compassion should not be seasonal, and peace should not depend on geography.

Tonight, as lights glow and wishes are made, may we remember the children who wish only for tomorrow.