This balance reflects a key truth in Persian thought: darkness is not the enemy—it is a passage. Yalda does not deny hardship; it acknowledges it and chooses companionship instead of fear. For many, Yalda is also a moment of self-reflection. As the year turns inward, people think about what they have endured and what they hope to carry forward. Wishes are rarely grand. They are simple: health, peace, closeness, another year of shared meals. The act of reading poetry becomes a mirror, allowing each person to find meaning without demanding answers.
Poetry sits at the heart of Yalda because poetry has always been how Persians make sense of uncertainty. When verses from Hafez are read aloud, they offer comfort without certainty, wisdom without instruction. Each interpretation belongs to the listener, turning Yalda into a night of collective introspection. In the modern world, Yalda continues to evolve. It is celebrated across the Iranian diaspora—in apartments, dorm rooms, cafés, and digital spaces. Screens replace some tables, but intention remains the same: connection.
