The war mongering pedophiles that brought you genocide in Gaza and the most scandalous files of abuse in history are now embroiling the world in a war to distract you in the name of “preserving freedom.”
Bombing a girls elementary school and killing over 30 young children is scratching the surface for these monsters. Truly sickening.
I came back today. I thought I had known despair before, but what I saw today is beyond despair.
It is not grief, nor horror, nor pain. It is something colder, a stillness where even God seems to have withdrawn His hand.
The sky was impossibly blue. The kind of blue that mocks you, that makes you wonder whether beauty itself is a crime.
I walked through streets that no longer exist, streets that were my childhood.
They are now a wilderness of stone, wire, and dust.
A man stood on a heap, a neighbor, I think.
He pointed and said, “It’s here.”
I asked him how far.
He looked down.
And I understood: my house was beneath his feet.
I lifted my phone, as if the machine could recognize what I could not. The screen glowed; there was nothing to see. The earth had swallowed the distances. Even the smell of home was gone. It was as if the thread connecting me to life itself had been cut.
I dug with my hands. The dust burned. My palms bled.
My mother had told me: “Search for anything we can save.” And so I obeyed her like a son obeys the last voice that still believes there is meaning in obedience.
From a house that once cost my father one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, a lifetime of labor, of hope, of decency, I found two things:
a knife, and a pillow.
Two relics of civilization. One for necessity, one for illusion.
That is what remains of man.
I sat in the ruins, the blue of my shirt turned gray with ash, and I thought:
this is the end not of a city, but of meaning itself.
I thought of my parents, their hands, their faith in honest work.
How will they bear this? How will any man bear seeing his father’s roof turned into dust by a stranger’s hands, hands that will never know the names of those they destroyed?
But what tears me apart more than ruin is silence. No one speaks to us.
No one tells us where to go, who will rebuild, or who is responsible.
The politicians talk of victories, the generals of strategy, the world of peace and progress.
But none of them live here among the ashes. None of them stand where I stand, sifting through their own dead.
And those who claim to represent us, where are they? Where is the money they collected in our name, the promises they made before the cameras, the slogans they wrote while we buried our children?
Who among them will come to this ruin and say: Forgive us, we failed you?
Not one.
They sit in offices with clean shirts, counting our corpses as figures on paper. They say “reconstruction,” “aid,” “negotiations,” as though the vocabulary of power could fill the emptiness of a mother’s bed.
I tell you the truth: there is no crime greater than indifference.
The murderer at least acknowledges the victim.
But those who look away, they kill the soul itself.
I brushed the dust from my shirt, though I knew it was useless.
I wanted to see if there was still color left in the world.
There wasn’t.
The blue had become the color of mourning.
I looked at my hands. They were shaking, not from fear, but from the unbearable realization that we have become expendable to the world.
Our suffering is entertainment, our death a policy, our endurance a statistic.
I wept then, openly, shamelessly.
I, who once believed in the dignity of suffering, now see that dignity itself has been annihilated.
There is nothing noble in being forgotten.
If you are reading this, do not admire the style or the language.
Lower your head, and weep.
Because this dust, this silence, this cry, is what remains of us.
Remember when the IDF went into a hospital.
Forced everyone out at gunpoint.
Then left newborn babies to starve and decompose in incubators.
All factual.
All proven.
Israel is the most depraved entity on earth.
2 years of torn limbs, desperate cries, mass slaughter, forced starvation. A genocide preceded by…
75 years of apartheid, occupation, and land confiscation paid for by our tax dollars.
The horror didn’t begin in 2023. It just became too visible to deny.
You can buy up all of the social media platforms and manipulate all of the algorithms but the people of the world will never forget what it looks like when a mother carries her child's remains in a grocery bag.
This is my will and my final message.
If my words reach you, know that Israel has succeeded in killing me and silencing my voice.
First, peace, mercy, and blessings be upon you.
God knows that I have given all my effort and strength to be a support and a voice for my people since I opened my eyes to life in the alleys and streets of Jabalia refugee camp. My hope was that God would grant me life to return with my family and loved ones to our original town of Ashkelon (Al-Majdal), occupied land. But God’s will was swifter, and His decree is binding.
I lived pain in all its details, tasted grief and loss repeatedly, yet I never hesitated to convey the truth as it is—without distortion or falsification—hoping God would bear witness against those who remained silent, those who accepted our killing, those who besieged our breaths, and whose hearts were not moved by the shattered bodies of our children and women, nor did they stop the massacre our people have faced for more than a year and a half.
I entrust you with Palestine, the jewel of the Muslim world and the pulse of every free heart in this world.
I entrust you with its people, with its innocent children who were not granted the time to dream or live in safety and peace.
Their pure bodies were crushed under thousands of tons of Israeli bombs and missiles, torn apart, their remains scattered on the walls.
I urge you not to let chains silence you, nor borders restrain you. Be bridges toward liberating the land and the people until the sun of dignity and freedom rises over our stolen homeland.
I entrust you with my family.
I entrust you with the apple of my eye, my beloved daughter, Sham, whom fate did not allow me to see grow as I dreamed.
I entrust you with my dear son, Salah, whom I wished to support and accompany until he grew strong, carrying my burden and continuing the mission.
I entrust you with my beloved mother, whose prayers were the reason I reached where I did. Her supplications were my fortress, and her light my path.
I pray God to ease her heart and reward her abundantly on my behalf.
I also entrust you with my lifelong companion, my beloved wife, Umm Salah Bayan, from whom war separated us for long days and months, but who remained faithful, steadfast like an olive tree trunk that never bends, patient and devout, carrying the trust in my absence with strength and faith.
I urge you to gather around them and be their support after God Almighty.
If I die, I die steadfast on my principles, bearing witness to God that I am satisfied with His decree, believing in meeting Him, and certain that what is with God is better and everlasting.
O God, accept me among the martyrs, forgive my past and future sins, and make my blood a light that illuminates the path to freedom for my people and family.
Forgive me if I fell short, and pray for me mercy, for I have remained true to the covenant, never changing or betraying it.
Do not forget Gaza…
And do not forget me in your good prayers for forgiveness and acceptance.
Anas Jamal Al-Sharif
06.04.2025
This is what Anas ordered to be published upon his martyrdom.
This is my will and my final message. If these words reach you, know that Israel has succeeded in killing me and silencing my voice. First, peace be upon you and Allah’s mercy and blessings.
Allah knows I gave every effort and all my strength to be a support and a voice for my people, ever since I opened my eyes to life in the alleys and streets of the Jabalia refugee camp. My hope was that Allah would extend my life so I could return with my family and loved ones to our original town of occupied Asqalan (Al-Majdal). But Allah’s will came first, and His decree is final. I have lived through pain in all its details, tasted suffering and loss many times, yet I never once hesitated to convey the truth as it is, without distortion or falsification—so that Allah may bear witness against those who stayed silent, those who accepted our killing, those who choked our breath, and whose hearts were unmoved by the scattered remains of our children and women, doing nothing to stop the massacre that our people have faced for more than a year and a half.
I entrust you with Palestine—the jewel in the crown of the Muslim world, the heartbeat of every free person in this world. I entrust you with its people, with its wronged and innocent children who never had the time to dream or live in safety and peace. Their pure bodies were crushed under thousands of tons of Israeli bombs and missiles, torn apart and scattered across the walls.
I urge you not to let chains silence you, nor borders restrain you. Be bridges toward the liberation of the land and its people, until the sun of dignity and freedom rises over our stolen homeland. I entrust you to take care of my family. I entrust you with my beloved daughter Sham, the light of my eyes, whom I never got the chance to watch grow up as I had dreamed.
I entrust you with my dear son Salah, whom I had wished to support and accompany through life until he grew strong enough to carry my burden and continue the mission.
I entrust you with my beloved mother, whose blessed prayers brought me to where I am, whose supplications were my fortress and whose light guided my path. I pray that Allah grants her strength and rewards her on my behalf with the best of rewards.
I also entrust you with my lifelong companion, my beloved wife, Umm Salah (Bayan), from whom the war separated me for many long days and months. Yet she remained faithful to our bond, steadfast as the trunk of an olive tree that does not bend—patient, trusting in Allah, and carrying the responsibility in my absence with all her strength and faith.
I urge you to stand by them, to be their support after Allah Almighty. If I die, I die steadfast upon my principles. I testify before Allah that I am content with His decree, certain of meeting Him, and assured that what is with Allah is better and everlasting.
O Allah, accept me among the martyrs, forgive my past and future sins, and make my blood a light that illuminates the path of freedom for my people and my family. Forgive me if I have fallen short, and pray for me with mercy, for I kept my promise and never changed or betrayed it.
Do not forget Gaza… And do not forget me in your sincere prayers for forgiveness and acceptance.
Anas Jamal Al-Sharif
06.04.2025
This is what our beloved Anas requested to be published upon his martyrdom.
Yesterday Israel turned down a deal for the Red Cross to bring food and medicine to Israeli hostages, bc Israel would not accept the condition to allow Palestinians food and medicine too.
Netanyahu is willing to starve his own citizens to death to make sure Palestinians starve.
“This landscape of destruction looks otherworldly. Yet it’s not. It is this world. And what is happening may yet come to define one of its darkest eras. One that casts a stain on humanity that will endure for generations.”
— ITV News, with aerial footage of Gaza.
🚨BREAKING: The Israeli army killed 8 year old Ali Al-Ra’i along with at least 70 other starving civilians as they waited to receive humanitarian aid today in Gaza City.
This is what Gaza City looks like right now, the northern tip of Gaza. No journalist has been there for months. No airplane has been allowed to fly over it and take pictures (this pic was taken in secret).
I don't think we can imagine what atrocities have taken place there, the number of agonizing deaths, and the extent of the war crimes.
We know what Israel has been willing to do IN FRONT of cameras. I don't think we can imagine what they are doing when the world cannot watch.
⭕️ Three Palestinians lie dead beside an aid box marked “People First.”
They were murdered by Israeli forces while trying to reach food in Gaza.
At least 82 Palestinians were killed across the enclave today — including 49 aid seekers. Over 270 others were injured.
The thing that enrages me most about the GHF propaganda is the use of word 'meals', which is designed to manipulate people into believing Gazans are actually being fed in those extermination corridors.
But they don't provide food to the starving Gazans. They are handing out ingredients that emaciated and fatigued Gaza Holocaust survivors still need to walk hours back and somehow cook in impossible conditions, with no running water, no gas supply, no electricity and no home for anybody.
They are calling it 'meals', insidiously, because, according to their calculations, the ingredients they hand out would translate into that number of actual meals in an ideal world.
And the use of this profoundly antihuman lie is driving me nuts with rage and disgust. These are the absolute worst psychopaths, and they do this after they deliberately destroyed and assassinated all initiatives that actually fed people in the Strip.
We are witnessing unimaginable levels of evil and hate for humanity by Israel and all its white Western Christian backer states. A level of meticulously planned evil that our grandchildren will have a hard time believing ever existed