The scenes of blood and dismembered bodies, left behind by the random retaliatory bombing of a tent housing the children of a displaced family in Al-Mawasi yesterday morning while they were sleeping, broke our hearts and disturbed our sleep, we who sleep with our children filling our eyelids, next to our heaters, and under blankets that protect from the cold, and are equipped with self-heating. We follow and watch the scenes appearing on the screens, drenched in blood, we struggle with our tears, and cover up our helplessness, our lack of resources, and our insignificance in the eyes of the people who remained silent and conspired in what happened to us, and do not respond to the pang of our hearts and the cries for help of our children.

“My cousin came yesterday displaced with her six children. We woke up to find blood filling their mattresses, and we began to collect their remains: severed legs and hands and bleeding faces.” With this heart-wrenching description of his and our hearts, the host was talking about what had happened to his guests, his cousins, in their dilapidated displacement tent, as a result of an airstrike that had turned it into a cemetery.

While the world was drowning in its sleeplessness and noise until dawn, celebrating and celebrating the New Year, the children of Gaza were drowning in their blood, killed by the raids, and freezing in the cold of winter. Many families were erased from the civil registry on the first day of the year of tragedies and sufferings, which seemed (during the first two days of it) as if it was on its opening day a year ago and more, from the horror of the strikes and the intensity of the raids, amidst calls to implement the “generals’ plan”, as if all this death that reaps lives, morning and evening, does not bear its mark, and they wanted to put an invisibility cap on her head, following the advice of the allies, so that they would not develop a feeling of embarrassment!

Oh my God..!

Stop the genocide now...!