People returned to what was left of their homes, but all they found was rubble—scattered stones and memories buried beneath the wreckage. Some searched for their missing children, for the mother who was here before the ceiling collapsed, for a voice that once filled the place with life. Destruction is everywhere, and death has not yet left. It lingers, as if waiting to take more.
470 days of war, yet it has not ended. A new battle has begun—the battle to find shelter amidst the ruins, to find a morsel of food for starving children, to find medicine for those still suffering. Unexploded missiles litter the streets, a haunting reminder that danger is far from over. We live among the wreckage, sleep under the open sky, searching for a moment of safety that remains out of reach.
I am one of those who have not broken, but I am exhausted. I need your help; I need you not to abandon me or those who remain. Do not leave us alone in this devastation. Do not let our voices fade beneath the fallen walls. We are not just numbers in the news—we are human beings who dream of nothing more than to live.
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