Blog post
I watched in silence as the images came in: broken walls, scattered belongings, stained pews, shattered statues. A place of prayer reduced to rubble. A place that once held whispers of hope now echoes with screams of despair.
I turned a year older today. But I did not light candles. I did not unwrap gifts. I did not hear the joyful hum of birthday songs.
I simply…grew older. Not by one year, but by many.
Because growing up in war and displacement means aging in leaps and bounds - through sleepless nights, through the sound of drones, through the weight of survival.
This year was not like any other.
It was a year heavy with pain, spent under the shadow of relentless bombardment on Gaza. But it was also the year I discovered my resilience, my faith, and my unwavering belief that life - despite everything - is worth living.
I no longer wish for things just for myself.
My wishes have become human.
I don’t want birthday candles - just the fires of war to be extinguished.
I don’t want gifts - just a child to return to their mother’s arms, not to her grave.
I don’t want parties - just a single night without the sound of sirens.
I have grown.
But my heart refuses to grow numb to the sight of children crying over rubble.
It refuses to grow indifferent to a world that watches blood flow and says nothing.
So today, I raise my voice for those who no longer have one.
Enough bombing. Enough death. Enough burying innocence.
I dream of a day where we are born without fear.
Where we live without bloodshed.
Where we grow old without hate.
Where peace needs no conditions - just hearts that still believe in humanity.
Today, the storm of longing hit my heart all at once.
I want my days back.
I want this cruel war to end.
I want security - for my homeland, my neighbors, and my soul.
I want to hug my friends, my family, and find them whole, healthy, and safe.
I long for a quiet life - free of conflict, loss, graves, hunger, and heartbreak.
And still, I thank God for every moment that has passed - with all its pain and all its grace.
I thank my own spirit for not giving up.
I thank every person who was a light in my darkest days.
A new year begins for me. I hope it brings the peace I’ve been longing for.
Gaza - our precious Gaza - deserves joy. Deserves love. Deserves to live.
Every year, I try again.
Every year, I reach for the light.
Every year, I grow closer to myself.
And I still carry hope.
