A Letter for the Children of Gaza
You are not forgotten.
Dearest, precious, sweet child of Gaza,
I know that no words can suffice for what you have been through, for what you are going through at this difficult time, when I take refuge in the pen.
But I find myself here.
Because for the moment, I don’t know where else to go.
While I’m trapped in this “prison,” I am safe, away from the bombs, bloodshed, death, and destruction, while you remain captive to the most unimaginable harsh realities, to no fault of your own.
I want you to know that we see you, hear you, and feel you.
I hear and dream about your screams and cries crushed beneath the concrete.
Your eyes welled up with tears and tender faces covered in dust and blood and clouded with fear and sorrow.
Your young and healthy hearts are suddenly burdened with the weight of neverending distress, anguish, terror, and bombardment.
Once exploding with the promises, hopes, and dreams from youth, you now bear the scars from thunderous explosions. The innocence of your face is marred by the consequences of hatred from the generations before you, as the shadow of death glooms over your light and pure, gentle radiance.
