I am writing this from the grave.
Do not look for me.
There is no body, only dust, and the smell of what once was bread.
We spoke. Oh, how we spoke.
With the tongues of children choking on smoke.
With the tongues of old men whose homes turned to ash before their afternoon tea cooled.
With the tongues of mothers who gave birth beside mass graves, and then laid their newborns inside them.
We spoke with our blood, with our silence, with our madness.
But the world did not hear.
The world, my friend, is deaf to the human soul, unless that soul bleeds gold.
They bombed us in the name of defense. They starved us in the name of security. They erased us with such calm, you would think it was an administrative procedure.
And now, they speak of expanding the operations, of occupying Gaza fully, not as a tragedy, but as a plan. It is no longer war, it is appetite.
And still we remained.
Not because we are brave.
Not because we are strong.
But because there was nowhere left to go.
I have seen a child dig through rubble with one hand, the other still clutching his sister’s decapitated doll.
I have seen doctors use thread from their own clothes to stitch together lungs that were already drowning.
I have seen men curse God.
And I have seen God…
say nothing.
Forgive me. I do not write this in anger.
I write it because I no longer know if I exist.
Because my memories are louder than your missiles.
Because my dead will not stop speaking.
They ask me:
“Did you tell them? Did you show them what they did to us?”
And I say: “Yes. I told them. I screamed it.”
And they say: “Then why are we still dead?”
They do not want justice. They want the land. Let them take it.
Let them build gardens atop our skulls.
Let them pave our history into a road that leads to nowhere.
Let them sleep beside the sea and call it peace.
But let us go.
Let the children go, with their bent spines and swollen bellies.
Let the mothers go, with the milk still warm in their breasts for babies who no longer breathe.
Let the old go, with their keys rusted into the shape of grief.
We no longer dream.
We no longer believe in victory.
We do not ask for revenge.
We ask only this:
Let us leave before we become beasts.
Let us carry our wounds like prophets, wounds that do not heal, but teach.
Let us walk away from this cursed inheritance, before we pass it on to our children.
And if you must continue your war, then do it without us.
Bomb the dust.
Starve the wind.
Colonize the silence.
But we are gone.
We take with us the names, the songs, the shadows.
We take with us the unbearable dignity of the murdered.
And if God still watches, let Him bear witness.
For if He is silent now, then one day He must speak.
And when He does, He will whisper not in Hebrew, nor Arabic, nor English, but in suffering.
The only language that was ever real.
#GazaGenocide
ird2024odgxmw Chile-Argentina Border Region mb 6.6 2024/07/19 01:50:45 - Event has not yet been reviewed by a seismologist. For subsequent updates and details, please see https://t.co/PXHJNKbjAg #earthquake#seisme#terremoto
Lo que sucede en Palestina nos afecta a todos como humanidad. Más allá de nuestra nacionalidad o ascendencia, solo necesitamos ser humanos para entender que lo que sucede en Palestina es un genocidio que necesita de nuestra voz.
El periodista israelí Gideon Levy (Haaretz) habla sobre la deshumanización de los palestinos por parte de la sociedad israelí: imprescindible para saber de dónde venimos y hacia dónde vamos. Son 6.45 minutos imprescindibles
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Confusión en el gobierno israelí y sus medios de propaganda. Primero reconocen el ataque y se justifican con que en el hospital se encontraban terroristas. Más tarde culpan a Hamás del ataque y publican un vídeo, se descubre que es un vídeo del 2022 y borran el vídeo.
Israel borró el vídeo que había utilizado para acusar a Hamás del bombardeo del hospital después de que se descubriera que las imágenes que habían utilizado eran del 2022.