I write the letters of this article in a way I’ve never written before—perhaps because there is nothing left to say. A year and a half since the beginning of the devastating war on Gaza has left it with nothing. Time there is no longer measured in days, but in rubble. The past 18 months can only be counted in pain, destruction, and betrayal. They have turned a once-vibrant city into a ghost town of ruins.
اضافة اعلان
Gaza—never unfamiliar with suffering—has never in its modern history seen such devastation. We all witnessed in full-color images how it was wiped off the map. A people now breathe only the ashes laced with the scent of bombing and gunpowder. And it all begs the question: Why all this destruction?
Yet, amid all this devastation, I still hold a belief deep inside me that relief is near. Perhaps that feeling came after former U.S. President Donald Trump recently stated, “The war will end soon.”
That cold sentence—despite its coldness—represents an acknowledgment: that the end is not a result of victory, but of emptiness left by destruction.
Yes, the war has ended—or nearly so—not because someone won, but because everything has been destroyed. There’s nothing left to bomb, nothing left to defend with stones or behind walls. And yet, what remains, despite it all, is hope that cannot be demolished, patience that cannot be defeated, and people who, despite hunger and death, still look to the sky as if to say: ‘This hardship shall pass.’
So let us pause and talk about this so-called "future" and "victory."
What kind of victory is built on corpses and ruins?
What future can be rebuilt when homes, schools, hospitals, and memories are erased?
How can families return when children have grown up on the sounds of shelling, the sights of destruction, and the horrors of war?
Gaza today—after a year and a half of war—does not need more weapons, or even another temporary ceasefire.
What it needs is recognition that the war was never just against Hamas or resistance, but against a people who have come to live through the horrors of doomsday.
So I say again, echoing the words of President Trump:
A year and a half of war in Gaza is enough.
Because the stones can bear no more, and because the people have nothing left to lose.
Because silence on Gaza is a crime.
Perhaps now is the time for the world to truly turn its attention to Gaza—not with statements of condemnation or empty promises of aid, but with real will to end this hellish cycle.
It is time to return life to the people of Gaza—not as a consolation prize, but as a right stolen through countless wars.
