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"Don't be afraid! This is our land… and we are men!"
His voice pierced through the smoke—louder than the roar of planes, more truthful than all the world's promises.
Mustafa, Adam's father, ran through the rubble as if searching for his heart among the ruins.
His face was dark and weary, his hands covered in dust and blood… yet he didn't stop.
He shouted,
"Endure, my brothers! Endure the hunger, the fear, the pain! Do not despair—victory will come… from God. Even if not in this world, then perhaps in the hereafter, and that may be better for you. Die as martyrs… do not die as cowards!"
His voice wasn't trembling—it was a scream of life in a city that dies every hour.
They were pulling people from beneath the debris, breaking stone with bare hands, lifting heavy doors with no tools.
Children moaned. Women screamed.
The air smelled of gunpowder, blood, and sweat.
And then…
A sound unlike the others.
Not like the previous rockets.
It was closer.
Final.
An explosion.
Fire.
Screams.
And then… silence.
The ambulances arrived when it was already over.
There was nothing left to save.
Only bodies sprawled across the ground—some beyond recognition.
Mustafa was among them.
On his chest, clutched tightly, was a scrap of a child's shirt… he held it until the end.
Adam ran to his mother, breathless, shouting:
"Where's Dad?! Mom, tell me, where is he?! Mom?!"
She held him tight, trying not to collapse. Her fingers ran through his hair as her heart shattered like glass.
She whispered,
"He's gone, my love… He gave his life to save others. But know this—he is now in God's mercy. He's in Heaven, where there is no pain, no hunger, no fear. There, Adam, everything is beautiful. We may suffer here, but… he is at peace."
Adam raised his head, tears carving lines down his cheeks, and asked in a trembling voice,
"But why, Mama? Why did God take Dad? Why not the ones who bombed us? Why do the good fathers die, and those who destroy keep living?"
Her voice quivered, a tear clinging to her throat:
"We don't know, my love… But maybe God loves the kind-hearted more, and He takes them early. Maybe… He needs brave souls like your father up there in the skies."
He fell silent, then asked in a small voice,
"Does that mean I'll die too?"
She shook her head quickly, pressing him tightly to her chest.
"No… You'll live. You'll grow up strong… just like your father. You'll carry on his path. You won't die."
But deep inside the child, something cracked.
And something else… caught fire.
When he was born, there were no ululations.
Only a mother whispering as she laid him on her chest,
"I hope you live a beautiful life… one without destruction, without rockets or fear. Just life… for the sake of life."
But life in Gaza… does not know how to keep promises.
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