I buried my friend and watched my father collapse from hunger. Don’t look away.

I stood at the end of his coffin, holding his cold feet, trying to understand how the body lying in front of me was once so full of laughter and life. His face was covered in blood , pure, sacred blood. Our friends began chanting with trembling voices that rose higher and higher:
The gate of Al-Aqsa is made of iron, and only a martyr can open it.
I rested my head on my friend Ahmed’s shoulder and lifted it again. I kept swallowing my tears, but every tear I held back stabbed deeper into my chest. I reached out again to touch Yahya’s feet, and then I fell silent.
Memories rushed into my mind all at once, like a movie playing in my head,his smile, his jokes, the light in his face.
He was so beautiful. His smile brought life to all of us, even in the darkest moments.
We buried him quickly. War doesn't give time for grief or goodbyes.
May Allah have mercy on you, Yahya.
Please pray for his soul. Please pray for Gaza.
And for those of us still alive… we are dying in different ways.
Do you know what famine really is?
It’s not just hunger.
It’s eating bread filled with worms and sand because there is nothing else.
It’s watching your father collapse in front of you and being unable to help.
It’s holding your baby who can’t cry anymore because there’s no milk left in their body.
In Gaza, we no longer seek fruit, meat, or even vegetables. We just want clean bread.
And even that has become a distant dream.
Our children are withering in front of our eyes. Their faces are pale, their bodies skeletal.
We pass people in the street and don’t recognize them ,they’ve become too thin, too hollow.

This is famine.
And all of it is happening under bombing, under destruction, in the shadows of death and displacement.

But perhaps the most painful part of all of this… is the silence.

The world’s silence is louder than any explosion.
It is not neutrality. It is complicity.
When you don’t speak out, when you don’t look, the truth dies too.

We don’t ask for pity. We ask you to see us. To remember us.
We are human. We love, we laugh, we dream.
And we are being starved, killed, and erased.

Gaza is bleeding. Gaza is hungry. Gaza is under fire.
And Gaza is being forgotten.

Don’t forget our faces. Don’t forget our names.
And please… don’t let your silence become another weapon against us.