Gaza’s 700 Days of Pain and Unyielding Resilience
For seven hundred days, Gaza has endured relentless bombardment, siege, and deprivation—days so heavy they feel longer than a lifetime. I write not as a politician or analyst, but as an orthopedic surgeon at Al-Aqsa Hospital, where I witness the cost of this war carved into human bodies and etched into the faces of the innocent.
Inside our hospital, the sounds of crying children merge with the shriek of falling bombs. Mothers grieve while the air is thick with smoke and the scent of blood. I have treated children who lost their limbs before ever learning to run or play, and I have held mothers as they whispered final farewells to their sons and daughters. A doctor’s hands are meant to heal—but how can one heal while their own heart is torn open?
Each day, I mask my pain behind the sterile veil of the operating room. I stand, unbroken, because others depend on me to remain upright. Yet in quiet moments, the weight of separation from my displaced family bears down on me. I have not seen them for months; I miss my children’s laughter, their warmth. Instead, I see them reflected in every wounded child I treat—sometimes alive, sometimes lifeless. In my imagination, I embrace my children each time I carry another small body to rest.
How long must this go on? When will my children sleep free from the thunder of explosions? When will Gaza’s children walk to school with books in their hands instead of bandages? When will they be allowed dreams that are colorful, not darkened by nightmares of war?
The international community must confront these questions. Where is the conscience of a world that speaks of rights, justice, and freedom, yet turns away as Gaza is slowly erased? We ask for nothing extraordinary—only the right to live, to raise our children without fear, to exist with dignity.
It is time to stop the war. It is time to end the genocide. It is time to let Gaza breathe again, and to allow its children the simplest of gifts: a smile.
Dr.nasim
GAZA Palestine
1-9-2025
