Under a Merciless Sky

In the heart of Gaza, where the sky rains nothing but fire, we live, a simple family of seven who dreamed only of a peaceful day, a morning that began with the smiles of children, not the sound of rockets. There was no fear, no hunger, no stress... I suffer from a chronic illness and vitamin deficiency due to malnutrition, and treatment is difficult to find.

I would hug my children every night, trying to hide the tremors of fear in my voice. But how could I hide the burning sky from them? How could I tell them that all this hell above their heads is not the end of the world? My little boy would ask me, "Mama, are we going to die today?" I would hug him silently, because I had no answer. My little boy would wake up terrified and scared by the sound of rockets. I would hold him, listening to his frightened heartbeat, but I could do nothing for him.

Our home was damaged by the bombing next to us, and we lost our source of livelihood. There was no work, no food, no medicine, and no clean water to drink. My children go to sleep hungry, screaming in pain, and I am helpless. I look at them and cry with the anguish of a mother who has nothing but prayer.

We live day by day, waiting for relief from God and from compassionate hearts that might hear my plea. I beg you, from the heart of a grieving mother, to help me. I am not asking for much, just what will keep my children alive: a morsel of food to satisfy their hunger, medicine to ease their pain, and water that won't kill them.

This plea is not a story... it is a cry, from Gaza, from among the rubble, from a mother who still believes that humanity has not yet died.