We are speaking from beneath the rubble, from among the ruins that were once our homes, and from among the photographs and memories of which all that remains is what we carry in our hearts.
We speak of doors that once opened every morning, only for the war to close them forever. Of rooms where we once gathered, now reduced to stones covering the bodies of those we loved. Of faces that once filled our homes with life, now gone, leaving behind only a photograph, a name, or a memory that hurts every time we remember it.
We are not speaking to provoke pity…
We speak because silence has become heavier than we can bear.
Let Gaza speak…
For a wound has the right to be told,
the grieving have the right to weep,
the oppressed have the right to cry out,
and every human being, after all this pain, has the right to say in a trembling voice:
I am tired… Tired of loss, of fear, of waiting, of burying the people I love, and of trying to survive every day as though life were a battle that never ends.
Do not blame those who speak of their pain…
Do not ask the wounded to remain silent simply because the sound of their suffering makes you uncomfortable.
Blame those who created this pain.
Blame those who brought homes down upon the people inside them.
Blame those who made mothers fear losing their children every moment.
Blame those who left an entire city bleeding, and then asked it to remain silent.
Gaza is not exaggerating when it cries… Gaza is simply trying to tell the world that it is still here.
And if our voices hurt you, remember that this voice is nothing more than an echo of the pain we live through every single day. 💔
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