Mohammed’s one child, a daughter, was born just weeks before the Oct. 7, 2023, attack.
BY MOHAMMED SAMEER
We are not exaggerating when we say that in Gaza we die for a piece of bread.
The lines for flour trucks are longer than our lifespans. The scene repeats itself daily: children pushing, the elderly collapsing, women crying — all for a bag of flour that may not last a week.
We live under a suffocating siege — no food, no medicine, no electricity, and no hope.
Hunger is devouring our bodies, fear is crushing our souls, and the world continues to watch in silence.
We are no longer seeking comfort — we are simply trying to survive.
We just want to live… to eat… to make it through.
New arrangements are taking place at the Rafah Distribution Center, the US Humanitarian-Aid Center. New arrangements have been made, which we are seeing for the first time, all because of the arrival of the American envoy to the region. This is the biggest lie in history. Now, after the return of the American envoy, chaos and shooting at people will return.
They want to send a message there that aid is reaching everyone, with protection, and that it is well-organized. But the truth is different. The truth is that every day there are injuries and martyrs in the Rafah distribution centers.
We do not want this distribution. This distribution causes the death of many people.
End this shame
They set up a tent and installed artificial grass so that the American envoy to the world could say that the aid was good and that everyone was taking it without any problems. They all share in our scarcity and starvation. The world must stand up to open all crossings and allow aid to reach every person in Gaza. Without this, chaos will continue to spread in Gaza.
The departure of martyrs has become sudden—no farewell, no final words, no trace to soothe the ache of absence.
They march toward the sun with unwavering steps, indifferent to a world that defiles justice and tramples dignity each day.
They ascend swiftly to the heavens, as if summoned to an urgent appointment, leaving no emptiness behind—for there is always another ready to carry the banner, another soul awaiting their turn to rise.
Martyrdom is no longer an exception; it has become a heartbeat echoing through the soul of the homeland, a sorrowful scene etched into a sleepless memory.
They leave in silence, yet their faces remain, and their sorrow grows within us—a quiet fury, a vengeance that will not rest.
Gaza is dying
Hunger is no longer a
looming threat — it is a daily, brutal reality for everyone.
The journalist reports the cries of the hungry while starving himself.
The doctor treats exhausted bodies while barely standing.
The paramedic runs to save lives while his own body
collapses from hunger.
No one is spared.
Everyone works on an empty stomach.
Dizziness and nausea are constant, and silent death is stealing children, women, and the elderly.
Gaza is living its most
dangerous moments.
If food doesn’t enter
immediately, more will die…
And the rest will die standing.
Save Gaza now — with your voice, your action, your
humanity.
They used to say:
“Three people cannot sleep — the hungry, the cold, and the afraid.”
But we’ve experienced them all…
We were afraid of the bombing — yet we slept.
We froze in the winter tents — yet we slept.
And now… we are hungry — and still, we sleep.
So I wonder…
Have we adapted? Or have our senses collapsed within us?
Has pain become the new normal?
Or are we simply… no longer alive enough to feel?
I’ll stop here…
Sleep weighs heavy on my eyes, and hunger gnaws at my insides.
Good night…
To our hungry people,
To those whose silence
became a cry,
Whose patience became a pain unheard
