L I L I A N

I think therefore I am

[Remi Kanazi @Remroum]

Your homes are Palestinian
And they will be returned
Everyone is leaving your side
Liberation in five

[ALUTHEDON @Mbakaza4L]

Israel committing genocide

[Rick @colonelhogans]

Only six more weeks until Christian Nationalists celebrate the birth of a Palestinian baby they wouldn’t even feed

[Hind Khoudary @Hind_Gaza]

I will not speak to foreign media about the killing of Palestinian journalists.
I will not sit on your global channels to be part of a segment you’ll forget by tomorrow.

To you, we are just a headline — a tragedy to consume, not colleagues to defend.

We are being hunted and killed in Gaza while you watch in silence.
For two years, your fellow journalists here have been slaughtered.

What did you do?
Nothing.

Or maybe it’s because we are Palestinian journalists — we don’t count as “real” colleagues in your eyes.

[أنس الشريف Anas Al-Sharif @AnasAlSharif0]

هذه وصيّتي، ورسالتي الأخيرة.
إن وصلَتكم كلماتي هذه، فاعلموا أن إسرائيل قد نجحت في قتلي وإسكات صوتي.
بداية السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

يعلم الله أنني بذلت كل ما أملك من جهدٍ وقوة، لأكون سندًا وصوتًا لأبناء شعبي، مذ فتحت عيني على الحياة في أزقّة وحارات مخيّم جباليا للاجئين، وكان أملي أن يمدّ الله في عمري حتى أعود مع أهلي وأحبّتي إلى بلدتنا الأصلية عسقلان المحتلة "المجدل" لكن مشيئة الله كانت أسبق، وحكمه نافذ.
عشتُ الألم بكل تفاصيله، وذُقت الوجع والفقد مرارًا، ورغم ذلك لم أتوانَ يومًا عن نقل الحقيقة كما هي، بلا تزوير أو تحريف، عسى أن يكون الله شاهدًا على من سكتوا ومن قبلوا بقتلنا، ومن حاصروا أنفاسنا ولم تُحرّك أشلاء أطفالنا ونسائنا في قلوبهم ساكنًا ولم يُوقِفوا المذبحة التي يتعرّض لها شعبنا منذ أكثر من عام ونصف.

أوصيكم بفلسطين، درةَ تاجِ المسلمين، ونبضَ قل��ِ كلِّ حرٍّ في هذا العالم.
أوصيكم بأهلها، وبأطفالها المظلومين الصغار، الذين لم يُمهلهم العُمرُ ليحلموا ويعيشوا في أمانٍ وسلام،
فقد سُحِقَت أجسادهم الطاهرة بآلاف الأطنان من القنابل والصواريخ الإسرائيلية، فتمزّقت، وتبعثرت أشلاؤهم على الجدران.

أوصيكم ألّا تُسكتكم القيود، ولا تُقعِدكم الحدود، وكونوا جسورًا نحو تحرير البلاد والعباد، حتى تشرق شمسُ الكرامة والحرية على بلادنا السليبة.
أُوصيكم بأهلي خيرًا،
أوصيكم بقُرّة عيني، ابنتي الحبيبة شام، التي لم تسعفني الأيّام لأراها تكبر كما كنتُ أحلم.

وأوصيكم بابني الغالي صلاح، الذي تمنيت أن أكون له عونًا ورفيق دربٍ حتى يشتدّ عوده، فيحمل عني الهمّ، ويُكمل الرسالة.

أوصيكم بوالدتي الحبيبة، التي ببركة دعائها وصلتُ لما وصلت إليه، وكانت دعواتها حصني، ونورها طريقي.
أدعو الله أن يُربط على قلبها، ويجزيها عنّي خير الجزاء.

وأوصيكم كذلك برفيقة العمر، زوجتي الحبيبة أم صلاح بيان، التي فرّقتنا الحرب لأيامٍ وشهورٍ طويلة، لكنها بقيت على العهد، ثابتة كجذع زيتونة لا ينحني، صابرة محتسبة، حملت الأمانة في غيابي بكلّ قوّة وإيمان.

أوصيكم أن تلتفوا حولهم، وأن تكونوا لهم سندًا بعد الله عز وجل.
إن متُّ، فإنني أموت ثابتًا على المبدأ، وأُشهد الله أني راضٍ بقضائه، مؤمنٌ بلقائه، ومتيقّن أن ما عند الله خيرٌ وأبقى.

اللهم تقبّلني في الشهداء، واغفر لي ما تقدّم من ذنبي وما تأخّر، واجعل دمي نورًا يُضيء در�� الحرية لشعبي وأهلي.
سامحوني إن قصّرت، وادعوا لي بالرحمة، فإني مضيتُ على العهد، ولم أُغيّر ولم أُبدّل.

لا تنسوا غزة���
ولا تنسوني من صالح دعائكم بالمغفرة والقبول.
أنس جمال الشريف
06.04.2025

هذا ما أوصى بنشره الحبيب الغالي أنس عند استشهاده.
إدارة الصفحة

[Sakir Khader @sakirkhader]

I do not need a Western country’s recognition of my homeland. It holds no meaning for me. Recognition does not suddenly validate our existence—we have always been here..

[Dr. Ezzideen @ezzingaza]

They speak now of a ceasefire.
A ceasefire.
As if death could be paused.
As if blood could be bargained with.
As if the heavens would take notice of papers signed in rooms far from the stench of burned flesh.

I wait.
We all wait.
Two million of us, sitting in the antechamber of death, waiting for a stranger's signature.

They are not like us, these strangers.
They do not know the weight of silence after an explosion.
They have never searched through rubble for a familiar hand, a lock of hair, a child's shoe.

I have stopped believing in the war’s end.
Or perhaps I no longer remember what its ending would even mean.
It has been here longer than memory, longer than childhood.
I think I was born with it.
I think war is my country, my father, my god.
It has taught me how to pray without faith, how to sleep with one ear open, how to smile with a corpse in the next room.

And still, I ask:
What if it ends?
What becomes of us, the ghosts who didn’t die?

Will we walk again in the streets like men?
Or will we crawl, like animals who survived fire and forgot their shape?

Will I taste coffee and not blood?
Will music no longer be mistaken for sirens?
Will we hear laughter and not look up?

Will we ever sit on a plane again, not to flee, but to return?
Will the sky be blue again, or will it always carry the shadow of steel and smoke?

And the weddings, will they dance again?
Or will the dead be invited too, sitting silent at the table?

I have not wept properly.
There are no proper tears in a land where grief must be quick and quiet.
We bury and run.
We mourn between alerts.
Even sorrow is rationed here.

I fear what we have become.
No. I fear what we are becoming, that we may survive this and never be whole again.

I speak now not to men, not even to God.
I speak to the void, because it has been more faithful than justice.

Let the killing stop.
Not for victory. Not for glory.
But so we may have a moment to understand what we have become.
So we may fall on our knees and sob, for the children, for the land, for ourselves.
So we may learn again to be human. Or at least pretend.

That would be miracle enough.

#GazaGenocide‌

[Ali Tawil @alitawil92]

When pain lingers,
it seeps into the soul
as if it were an inescapable fate,
as if we were born only to carry it,
without rest, without a clear end,
and without ever seeing the face of joy again.

What a painful feeling it is…
as if sorrow has become part of our very features,
silence the language of the heart,
and joy.. a memory so distant
that it frightens us to even recall it.

As if smiling would somehow
betray the weight of all we’ve endured.

[Remi Kanazi @Remroum]

This is going to translate into any criticism of the state of Israel. This isn’t about antisemitism or keeping Jewish people safe, this is an Orwellian campaign to target anyone critical of a nation state carrying out genocide paid for with US tax dollars

[حسام شبات @HossamShabat]

Israeli occupation is a:

•State-sponsored terrorism
•Brutal imperialism
•Military occupation
•Deliberate bombing of hospitals
•Massacre of refugees in camps
•Indiscriminate bombing of schools
•Targeting of civilian shelters and tents
•Airstrikes on food trucks, starving civilians
•Bombing of ambulances, killing medical personnel
•Massacres of innocent civilians
•Systematic ethnic cleansing
•Deliberate destruction of homes and infrastructure
•Targeting of critical water supplies to force surrender
•Blocking life-saving medical aid and supplies
•Imprisoning and torturing prisoners who also have no charges on them
•Arbitrary assassinations of activists and civilians
•Destruction of crops and agricultural livelihoods
•Ruthless destruction of power grids, plunging Gaza into darkness
•Targeting journalists to suppress truth
•Attacking mosques and churches to erase religious identity
•Depriving access to healthcare, condemning the wounded to die
•Use of internationally banned weapons like white phosphorus
•Collective punishment through blockades and airstrikes
•Systematic displacement of families
•Violent repression of any form of resistance
•Complete disregard for human rights and international law

[حسام شبات @HossamShabat]

While many knew Hossam as a fearless journalist, there was so much more to him. He was a young man with dreams, with a sense of humor, and a heart full of life. He loved dressing well, even in the middle of chaos, once joking:
“What if I run into a cute girl while reporting? I want to look good!”

Hossam had crushes. He wanted to fall in love, to build a family, to be a husband and a father. He talked about the future like he believed in it — like it was something real and reachable. He wanted more than headlines and frontlines. He wanted soft mornings, quiet dinners, laughter with loved ones.

He dreamed of leaving Gaza someday, saying,
“When this is all over, I’m taking a long break — I want to visit a beautiful country.”
He longed for peace — not just for his people, but for his own soul. A chance to breathe freely, to explore, to just be.

He grew up by the sea and loved seafood deeply. The ocean was part of him — he’d smile and say,
“I love everything seafood — I grew up with it.”
There was something about the water that calmed him, something that reminded him of home, even as the world around him was in pieces.

At night, you’d find him with his headphones on, listening to music — especially Palestinian songs. He’d spend time during the day downloading them so he could escape into melodies once the city quieted down. It was his small form of peace — rhythm in the middle of ruin.

He was pure. He was innocent.
There was a gentleness in him that never hardened, even in war. A softness that stayed untouched by the noise around him. He believed in beauty, in love, in something better. And that is how he should be remembered — not just as a journalist, but as a young man who wanted to live.

[حسام شبات @HossamShabat]

This is Hossam’s team, and we are sharing his final message :

“If you’re reading this, it means I have been killed—most likely targeted—by the Israeli occupation forces. When this all began, I was only 21 years old—a college student with dreams like anyone else. For past 18 months, I have dedicated every moment of my life to my people. I documented the horrors in northern Gaza minute by minute, determined to show the world the truth they tried to bury. I slept on pavements, in schools, in tents—anywhere I could. Each day was a battle for survival. I endured hunger for months, yet I never left my people’s side.

By God, I fulfilled my duty as a journalist. I risked everything to report the truth, and now, I am finally at rest—something I haven’t known in the past 18 months . I did all this because I believe in the Palestinian cause. I believe this land is ours, and it has been the highest honor of my life to die defending it and serving its people.

I ask you now: do not stop speaking about Gaza. Do not let the world look away. Keep fighting, keep telling our stories—until Palestine is free.”

— For the last time, Hossam Shabat, from northern Gaza.

[Basel Adra @basel_adra]

This morning, one day after i came back from the Oscar’s a masked group of Israeli settlers stormed my neighbours home, assaulted the family members, sprayed pepper spray in their eyes, and smashed activists’ phones.another group of settlers attacked another family in the area.

[Jehad Abusalim @JehadAbusalim]

uncomfortable on campus

[Mohammed El-Kurd @m7mdkurd]

You deserve to spend the remainder of your miserable worthless life chained in a sewer and eaten by rats

[Ghassan Abu Sitta, Chair of Conflict Medicine AUB @GhassanAbuSitt1]

Please amplify this plea by Dr Hussam Abu Safiyeh's family for his release

[Jehad Abusalim @JehadAbusalim]

I wrote something long here but changed my mind. I’ll leave it to you to comment after you hit the translate button on the replies here:

[Sana Saeed @SanaSaeed]

Nothing should ever make us numb or prepared to watch footage after footage of injured and beheaded babies.

They’re just babies and there are people in this world who think that this is necessary because their right to kill supersedes the right of their victims to live.

[Abdullah Omar🇵🇸 @Abdullah_Om3r03]

Dear world

We are now surrounded from everywhere

Forgive me now this will be my last day

Please remember me and do not forget me

This is the last farewell💔😭

[Randa Jarrar @randajarrar]

from 2021. always true.