Save our children from the hell of war in Gaza

Gaza Under the Ruins: A Mother's Cry Amidst Shattered Dreams

My name is Inas, and I write to you from the heart of Gaza—a land that has turned into a painful symbol of suffering, loss, and unbreakable resilience. Every day we wake up to a reality that feels like a nightmare, one from which we cannot escape. Words fail to express the depth of our pain; our wounds go beyond the body, and scars have etched themselves into our souls in ways that words cannot describe.

The shrapnel that pierced my husband’s lungs didn’t just injure him physically; it tore our dreams apart from their roots. It is a harsh reminder of our shattered hopes. My husband urgently needs a complex surgery to remove those fragments, but in this land full of despair, where hospitals are destroyed, and treatment is a distant dream, we find ourselves trapped in a never-ending cycle of helplessness. Every door that once promised healing is now closed, and the echo of our cries for help reverberates in emptiness.

Life in a tent adds further burdens to our suffering. We live under thin fabric that offers no protection from the scorching sun, whose rays pierce through the walls of our makeshift tent, making the heat unbearable. In winter, our tent turns into a cold, damp box, with water seeping in from all sides, adding to our misery. We face a severe shortage of food and water, and the meager amounts we receive barely meet our basic needs. Each day is a bitter struggle for survival.

My eldest son was once full of ambitions, dreaming of becoming an engineer. He was full of life, with a strong, athletic body and endless energy. Today, he is a shadow of his former self—weak, frail, struggling even to move, as the war has robbed him of not only his dreams but also his vitality. The bright future he once saw has become a painful memory, leaving behind only echoes of what could have been.

As for my younger children, they were once eager learners, thriving in school, full of curiosity and ambition. Now, their lives have been reduced to waiting—standing in long, exhausting lines for scarce resources. Their laughter has been replaced by silence, and their dreams have been overshadowed by anxiety. The weight of their unrealized potential hangs heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the innocence stolen by conflict.

We are a family caught in the crossfire of a merciless storm, yearning for the simplest of joys—a life where hope can grow again. But as the rubble of our lives surrounds us, we cling to the remnants of our dreams, trying to find light in this darkness.