The boy by the grave
The veil has been lifted off my eyes
I was heartbroken today, heartbroken by a video, heartbroken by a video of a child, heartbroken by a video of a child sitting by the grave of his father in Gaza.
Need I say how the father died? I think we all know who the murderers are at this point, but that’s not why I was heartbroken. I was heartbroken that a child should have to go through the suffering and grief that he is going through. The child, when asked, said that he was looking for food and water for his sisters, and when he couldn’t find any, he came to his father.
The child sat there so lonely; the mere sight of him made my heart bleed. He came crawling to his father's grave, to meet him because his father was the main source of provision for him and his siblings. But his father couldn’t provide for them anymore. No, his father is gone—gone to his Lord, killed unjustly, and died a martyr, and is waiting for his children with a smile on his face in Jannah (paradise).
The person filming the video, with the kindest of hearts, blessed the child with some money and did something that touched my heart so deeply I started to weep. He told the boy to smile and be happy, and the boy smiled—a smile so genuine, I’ve never seen a more genuine and heartfelt smile in my life. Because the money meant that his sisters could have something to eat, could have water to drink.
The veil has been lifted off my eyes. I now see the cruelty of the world we live in. A world where the oppressors gets to do whatever they want and get away with everything. A world where the death of a child let alone tens of thousands doesn’t bother people because the children belongs to a certain race and religion. A world where unjustifiable acts like the bombing of an hospital, killing the sickly and injured, is justified. A world where the oppressor is seen as the victim of the oppressed, rather than the other way around. A world where the massacre of an entire population isn’t challenged because the people doing the killing are backed by the so-called “civilized countries”.
I used to think such blatant atrocities where behind us and left to history, never to be repeated again, but oh was i wrong. As cliche as the phrase “we don’t learn from history” goes, i wholeheartedly believe we never learn from history. And that is sad reality for me to realize.
An unjust and insane world— the world we live in. A mad world.