Sometimes I feel like I’ve been walking along a path at the bottom of a ravine, between two high cliffs. I keep waiting for a pass that will take me back up into the sunlight, but it doesn’t come. I wait to hear my name called, to hear someone say, “Wael, here I am. Here’s a way for you to walk. Here is someone to share your burden.” But the call does not come. I’m patient and I’m strong, but the path is dimly lit, and I’ve been walking it alone all my life, and I’m tired.