Oh please Lord! Have mercy upon the weak hands of mine, who are unable to bear the burden of this endless massacres and bloodsheds. I am too feeble to stand under the scorching heat of unbearable pain and miseries.
I have been torn, beaten, killed, raped, tortured, crushed, slaughtered and erased, was it the reason for which I have once been raised? My men, women and children are on the verge of pain, are all our sacrifices are to go in vain?
I am a young lad from Gaza, its my time to play around my house, listen stories from my grandmother, eat chocolates and enjoy the tension free era of my life… but I think I am not made up of that tender skin and flesh that your children are made up of, I am not sensitive to burning fire and terrified of wars like your little ones are because I am being ignored and kept as a scapegoat because I am born to face the cruelty of enemies and disowning of my friends. How can I claim to play around my house, when my house has been kept on fire, how can I listen to my grandmother’s tale when she has been shot dead in front of my eyes, how can I eat chocolates, when I even don’t have a sip of water to drink, how can I enjoy the tension free era when my mother has become a victim of gang torture. So yes I am Gaza, and it’s my fate to burn.
I have been foolish to spread my hands and yell for help from this Muslim Ummah, This ummah, who are just alive in the books of Islam and chapters of Quran, this Ummah who fights among each other calling it Jihad, this Ummah who backbites about their brothers and proudly eats up the property of orphans, enjoys haram relations and performs haram deeds, spends heavily over the useless stuffs naming them the way of pleasing their Lord. This is the way Lord is pleased? Lord is not so unjust that He will keep us in this burning hell in the world and protect those who never came up to help us in need. Allah is there to listen to our yells and screams; He will put the guilty people in seventy times more painful fire than we are in today.
Yes we are tired of putting our children in graves. Our mother’s hearts are not made of stones that can bear the bleeding corpse of their loved ones each day, our father’s shoulders are not that strong that they can lift our dead bodies everyday, our land is not that absorbent that it can swallow gallons of innocent blood all the times. Oh Muslim Ummah, raise your hands to stop the enemies from hurting your brothers and sisters, if you can’t, then raise your voice to condemn this massacres, even if you can’t do this, please do pray for us, feel the burn in your heart that we are facing since 1946. BY Javeria Raees