Venezuela, how deeply you hurt today.
Twenty-seven years of unrelenting suffering, and now this.
Sometimes I wonder what your people could have possibly done to deserve so much pain. So much loss. So much injustice.
Beyond your borders, so few truly understand what it means to survive in a country where many earn less than four dollars a month—yet, when tragedy strikes, they still give everything they have to help one another.
Because that is who we are.
A Venezuelan does not surrender. We fight. We lift each other up. We keep hope alive even when life seems determined to extinguish it. We carry wounds the world rarely sees, yet we continue to love, to rebuild, and to believe that one day the dawn will come.
Today I walk the streets of another country, but my mind, my soul, and every beat of my heart remain in Venezuela. I think of you constantly. I mourn every precious life taken in these heartbreaking days.
My heart breaks with every family grieving, every child left without an embrace, every dream buried beneath the rubble.
And yet, even through tears, I know this: Venezuela has never been defined by its suffering, but by the extraordinary courage of its people.
Gloria al Bravo Pueblo. Fuerza, Venezuela. One day, your pain will no longer be your story—your resilience will.
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