No matter how much we speak or console, all words of solace and comfort feel inadequate. They cannot truly reach the shoulder of someone who has lost their entire family in an instant, left alone in the ruins of war. It is said that the most exalted of endings is that of the martyr. For this reason, I do not mourn the martyrs with tears. Instead, I choose to see the reality of the scene, where the sky lifts them beyond the bounds of oppression, to a realm where the soul inhales the eternal breaths of justice, mercy, and peace—far from all of this, far from a world that Ali ibn Abi Talib described as: “This world of yours is more insignificant to me than a goat’s sneeze.”I choose to see God’s mercy in compassionate hands and steadfast hearts that refuse to surrender, that refuse to lay down their arms because they know that blood is the price of freedom—the price to ensure that humiliation does not break the backs of both the present and the future. This loss, this oppression, this brutality—it is all unbearably harsh, a grief upon grief. But perhaps the cruelest part is the living witness, someone who has seen with their own being the enormity of this tyranny and the human betrayal of justice in this world. And a child, who has endured what even mountains could not bear.Yet, I believe in God’s mercy. I believe that beyond all of this lies a great victory. I believe that His grace heals and restores, for this is His promise to us!
Oh Gaza, it is but a stone’s throw...
Oh Palestine, it is but the endurance of an hour...
And if we are to fall upon death, or if death is to fall upon us, besieged from all directions,
Then we remain steadfast in the truth—why should we falter?
The picture from pinterest
https://pin.it/4q9XXlR0S
all content provided in this post is my own property
