Save My Sick Child, Karam… A Cry from the Heart of the Siege

"I am Ibrahim... from Northern Gaza"

My name is Ibrahim, a father of seven children, and everything I once owned has been destroyed by war. I used to live in a simple home, filled with love — now it lies in ruins, buried under shattered memories. I have nothing left… no roof to shelter my children, no walls to protect them from the cold or the heat. Today, we live in the open, struggling to survive one day at a time.

Among my seven children is a sick child — fragile, in pain, with no access to medicine or hospitals. My only wish is to see him smile again, but illness devours his small body as war devours our spirits every day.

The siege has strangled us from all directions. No food, no clean water, no electricity. We wait for scraps of aid, sharing a single piece of bread between hungry mouths. My children ask me every night, "Baba, will we eat tomorrow?" And I have no answer that can ease their broken little hearts.

Everything has been taken from us — our childhoods, our dreams, even our most basic right to live. At night, my youngest daughter cries from the cold. I hold her close, helpless. My mother coughs in the corner. My elderly father sits in silence, as if waiting for the end.

I’m not asking for much. Only that you feel us, hear our cry, see our suffering. I appeal to every living heart: Don’t leave us alone. Don’t forget us. We are being erased in silence.

Please help us through this nightmare. Stand with me — I don’t want to feel alone in this harsh world. Stand with Gaza. Stand with the hungry, the sick, the children who have known nothing of life except bombs and hunger.

I am Ibrahim... from wounded Gaza, carrying seven innocent souls on my shoulders, crying out to the world: Save us before we become just numbers in the news.