A few months ago I wrote a protest rap called “Light the Fire.”
The song was inspired by the growing debate around long migration waiting periods and the idea that some people might spend decades in legal limbo before they are allowed to truly belong.
The line that stayed with me while writing the song was simple:
“They light the fire — then complain about the smoke.”
It captures the paradox many refugees feel: wars and crises create displacement, but those who flee often face suspicion, endless waiting, and systems that put their lives on hold.
For me this topic is not theoretical. Thirty-eight years ago I arrived in Europe with my mother as a war refugee. It took 15 years before our lives finally became stable. Years that can never be returned. Years when childhood, education, and identity feel suspended between hope and uncertainty.
Writing the song was one way of expressing those emotions.
But I also felt that simply releasing a song was not enough.
So I decided to do something unusual: I wrote letters.
One letter went to His Majesty King Charles III and Queen Camilla, another to The Prince and Princess of Wales, and a third to 10 Downing Street. The letters were respectful, personal reflections about time, dignity, and the importance of allowing children and families to build stable lives rather than waiting for decades.
My Letter to King Charles & Queen Camilla
Zurich, 18. December 2025
Subject: Twenty-Year Settlement Waiting Periods and
Their Impact on Children
Your Majesty,
Your Majesty Queen Camilla,
I am writing to you not as a
politician, nor as an expert in law, but as a human being who once arrived in
Europe as a war refugee - and who knows, from lived experience, what it means
to have one’s life placed on hold for years.
Thirty-eight years ago, my
mother and I arrived with little more than hope. We were safe, yes - but safety
alone does not equal a life. It took fifteen years before we were
allowed to live with stability, dignity, and the right to fully participate in
society. Fifteen years of temporary papers, uncertainty, and fear of losing
everything again.
Today, I watch history repeat
itself.
Recent proposals in the United
Kingdom suggest that refugees and migrants may be required to wait up to twenty
years before they are granted permanent settlement. Twenty years is not a
“process”; it is a lifetime. Childhoods pass, youth disappears, and potential
is frozen. Time - the most precious thing any of us owns - is quietly taken
away.
Your Majesty, you have
dedicated much of your life to supporting young people through The Prince’s
Trust, helping those from difficult backgrounds gain confidence, education, and
the chance to build something meaningful. Your Majesty Queen Camilla, your
long-standing support of books, literacy, and learning reflects a belief that
every human being deserves the opportunity to grow, contribute, and belong.
It is in that spirit that I
write to you.
How can young people learn,
plan, and build a future if they are forced to live for decades in legal limbo?
How can families thrive when they are treated as temporary guests in the very
place they are trying to call home? Prolonged waiting periods do not encourage
integration; they paralyse it.
I understand that the monarchy
does not create laws. However, it does carry moral weight. Your voices, your
patronage connections, and your lifelong commitment to social responsibility
play an important role in shaping public conversation.
I respectfully ask whether you
might consider using that influence to highlight the human cost of prolonged
settlement waiting periods, to encourage public discussion about their impact
on children and families, and to raise concerns with government as to whether
decades-long limbo truly reflects British values of fairness, dignity, and
compassion.
I write as someone who has
survived war, displacement, and years of waiting, and who is now an independent
writer and songwriter. Through my writing and song lyrics, I try to raise
awareness of inhuman realities such as this one and to give voice to those
still trapped in uncertainty. I would be honoured to share my music with you
and will include a small memory stick with a selection of my songs, should you
ever wish to listen.
Refugees do not ask for
privilege. We ask only for the chance to live, work, contribute, and belong -
without having decades of our lives suspended.
As the year draws to a close,
may I also extend my sincere best wishes to you both, especially for continued
health and strength. I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy, peaceful, and
healthy 2026.
Thank you very much for taking
the time to read my letter. I hope it will be received in the spirit in which
it is written - with respect, concern, and a deep belief in humanity.
Yours sincerely,
Lily Amis
Writer & songwriter
P.S. I have also
shared these concerns with the Prime Minister, in the hope that they may be
considered across all appropriate levels.
🏛️ Response from Buckingham Palace
Following my letter to His Majesty The King and Queen Camilla, I received a kind response from Buckingham Palace. I have chosen not to share the letter publicly, but I appreciate that my words were received and acknowledged with courtesy.
The Head of Royal Correspondence wrote that the King had received my letter and had taken interest in learning about my work as a songwriter. While the Palace explained that it is not possible for the monarch to comment on policy matters, my views had been “very carefully noted.”
I appreciated the courtesy and the acknowledgment. In today’s fast world, even taking the time to respond thoughtfully says something about the value of dialogue.
So I would like to express my thanks for that reply.
My Letter to the Prince & Princess of Wales
Zurich, 18. December 2025
Subject: Twenty-Year Settlement Waiting Periods and
Their Impact on Children
Your Royal Highnesses,
I hope you will forgive me for
writing to you again. Some time ago, I had the honour of sending you a
selection of my books and audiobook for your children. I was deeply touched by
your kind response and your words of thanks for the work I had shared with
them. That exchange has stayed with me, and it is in that same spirit of care
for children and their futures that I write to you today.
I am a former war refugee, and
also a writer and songwriter who believes deeply in the right of every child to
grow up with dignity, stability, and hope.
You are parents to three young
children. Like all parents, you know how quickly childhood passes - how each
year matters, how time shapes confidence, education, and a sense of belonging.
It is precisely because of this that I felt compelled to write to you.
There are children today in
the United Kingdom - refugee children and children of migrants - whose futures
are being placed on hold for up to twenty years under proposed
settlement rules. Twenty years is not an administrative detail. It is an entire
childhood. It is adolescence. It is the foundation of a life.
No parent would willingly
accept their own children being told to wait decades before they are allowed to
belong, to feel secure, or to plan a future. No parent would consider it
reasonable for their children’s education, mental wellbeing, and sense of worth
to be suspended while paperwork slowly moves forward.
Yet this is the reality facing
thousands of families.
I arrived in Europe as a child
fleeing war. Although I was safe, it took fifteen years before my life
was no longer defined by temporary status and uncertainty. Those years cannot
be recovered. Education is disrupted, confidence erodes, and dreams shrink -
not because of a lack of ability or effort, but because dignity itself is
delayed.
Your Royal Highnesses have
spoken often about the importance of early childhood, mental health, and giving
young people the best possible start in life. Prolonged waiting periods do the
opposite. They teach children that they are conditional, temporary, and unwelcome
- even when they are doing everything asked of them.
Education, dignity, and the
right to a normal life should never be placed on hold.
I understand that you do not
make laws. But you do carry influence, compassion, and the ability to shape
national conversation. I respectfully ask whether you might consider using your
voices and your work to highlight the impact of prolonged legal limbo on
children and families, and to encourage reflection on whether such policies
truly align with the values of fairness, responsibility, and humanity that
Britain stands for.
This letter is written not in
anger, but in concern - and in hope. Hope that those who are privileged with
safety and stability might help ensure that others are not denied the same
simply because of where they were born.
As parents, you know that time
with our children is precious. Once lost, it cannot be returned. No child
should spend their formative years waiting to be allowed a life.
I have included a small memory
stick with a selection of my music (including my track King Charles and Light
the Fire), in which I try to raise awareness about inhuman realities such as
these through song, should you ever wish to listen.
As the year draws to a close,
I would like to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas, along with
continued health, safety, and happiness. May the coming year bring peace,
compassion, and hope for all children and families.
Thank you very much for taking
the time to read my letter.
Yours sincerely,
Lily Amis
Writer & songwriter
P.S. I have also
shared these concerns with the Prime Minister, in the hope that they may be
considered across all appropriate levels.
👑 Response from Kensington Palace
Following my letter to the Prince and Princess of Wales, I received a kind response from Kensington Palace too.
While I have chosen not to share the letter publicly, I appreciated the acknowledgement of my experience and the thoughtful reply.
But both responses were respectful and acknowledged my words, while also reflecting the limits of their roles.
As for my other letter, I have not received a response from Downing Street yet. Perhaps they are still somewhere in the administrative maze of modern governance, or perhaps they simply will remain unanswered. That, too, is part of the reality when citizens try to raise difficult topics.
But the purpose of writing was never confrontation.
It was conversation.
And sometimes the act of speaking honestly is already enough.
For now, I consider this chapter closed. The song “Light the Fire” exists, the letters were written, and the message has been shared. Whether it changes anything immediately is not for me to decide.
What I do know is that creativity should not live forever in anger.
So for the next while, I am turning my focus toward positive stories, new music, and projects with strong sync potential — songs about resilience, hope, and the human spirit.
The fire has been lit.
Now it is time to create new light.
