hamada from gaza

My name is Hamada. I live in Gaza.

For weeks now, the sound of bombs has replaced the sound of the wind. My neighborhood barely exists anymore. The walls have fallen — and so have familiar faces. I no longer remember what it feels like to sleep without fear.

I used to have dreams. I wanted to learn, to build something, to help others. But now, I only dream of a bit of silence, some clean water, and a place where I can feel safe — even if just for a few hours.

My sister no longer plays in the yard. My father doesn’t answer when I call. And I’m still here, standing among the ruins, just trying to hold on.

I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing because I want to live. Because something inside me refuses to die, even if everything around me is falling apart.

Help us. Speak about us. Don’t let the world forget.