Gaza under the guillotine of starvation and the killing of humanity

In Gaza, the chapters of the tragedy never end, but rather continue as if written in blood and sealed with the seals of international silence and human betrayal. There, one does not need to be on the front lines to die; hunger, thirst, and the collapse of life itself have become instruments of annihilation no less deadly than missiles and bombs.

Those who aren't killed by the occupation in raids are killed by the siege in the details of their daily lives. The Palestinian in Gaza dies slowly, between rationed bites of bread and dry lips longing for a sip of water. He dies while searching for the rest of medicine for a sick child, or for a roof to protect him from the summer heat and the winter cold. Death in Gaza is no longer a fleeting moment, but rather a life process, a daily path that people experience with all their exhausted senses.

Since the beginning of the aggression, the Israeli war machine has not only destroyed homes over the heads of their inhabitants, but has also pursued a systematic plan to destroy the remaining necessities of life. Bakeries have been destroyed, crossings have been closed, aid has been prevented, and a "calorie" policy has been implemented that treats Gaza's residents as numbers, not lives. They are given the bare minimum to sustain them, not life, as if the occupation is saying: Let them breathe, but don't let them live.

In alleys crowded with bodies exhausted by deprivation, mothers huddle around their children, feeding one morsel to four mouths, swallowing tears along with the air saturated with the stench of blood and dirt. In hospitals, patients die because electricity is insufficient to operate respirators, or because medicine is withheld by military decree. In camps, the land has become a temporary cemetery for children who died of malnutrition or dehydration, in an age of globalization and human rights.

What kind of time do we live in, when hunger has become a weapon, and childhood is besieged by emergency laws? What kind of world claims to protect civilians, while leaving a million children in Gaza to suffer from hunger, cold, and fear? Isn't this the naked meaning of slow death? Isn't this genocide being practiced in full view of the "global conscience," which has become damaged, self-serving, or complicit?!

In Gaza today, humanity is being slaughtered on the international stage, and blood is being shed while the Security Council convenes to discuss a "temporary truce" or a "humanitarian ceasefire," as if life can be divided into permissible and forbidden hours.

Palestinians no longer expect justice, which has become, in the eyes of this world, a mythical idea and a mere illusion in the speeches of politicians.

But despite all this, dignity has not died. The Gazan who is starving today does not kneel. The one who bids farewell to his children amidst the rubble of his house does not compromise on his land. And the woman who wipes her tears with the sleeve of her torn shirt still guards the dream of return and freedom. The occupation, no matter how oppressive, cannot kill the Palestinian spirit, which has been battered by massacres and has become more intense, planting roots in the sand that cannot be uprooted by planes.

In Gaza, the groans of the hungry rise to shake the conscience of the world, if it still has one. And in Gaza, a daily epic is written in the language of blood and patience. In it, the martyrs lie, and the hungry wake up to the dream of an unbroken resistance, certain that hunger will not be the end of the story, but rather one of the chapters of the great uprising of a people who do not know defeat. For Gaza does not die... even if the body dies, the dream does not starve.