Gaza still hurts me

Today I won’t write about figures. Today I will write about a people that bleeds over time.

A people under occupation that discredits the words humanity and freedom. One who knows tyranny years of death and destruction. A tyranny covered by other tyrannies disguised as democracies and parliamentary polls.

An International Community silencing children, women and men who die under the rubble of their homes because a bomb dropped from the oppressor has knocked aside.

Today I won’t write about figures. I’ll talk about schools destroyed on bombed hospitals, ambulances that don’t arrive on time to rescue the bodies lying on the road.

I will talk about a blockade that kills every day without bombs or toxic gases. I will speak about shortages of food, medicines, contaminated water into a rich and plundered land.

I will talk about Peace Nobel Laureates because we never should had given them the word. I’ll talk about a sovereignty stolen, about a ravaged fertile ground. About unpunished crimes, about the passing years and nobody does anything. About an international law that protects who occupies and devastates. I’ll talk about complicity, about executioners in the shadow, about interests that kill.

But I’ll also talk about dignity. About resistances that fight, brigadists who give their lives for a cause. About human beings who still believe in hope. About a martyred people, a sacred Palestine. I’ll talk about abolish boundaries, tear down walls of shame, about empathize with a land that screams and bleeds.

Today I won’t write about figures because counting still hurts me, Gaza still hurts me.

Myriam Merhi Andión

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