The children in Gaza, as they witness the destruction, horrible black sights, smoke all around, as they see wounds on their delicate flesh, are crying to the world to wake up and stand for them. At the age when they were forming the image of the world through colourful cartoons, they were thrown into the darkness which they would never forget. We need to speak up or else we will not have any answers but shame when history will stand strong as a rock filled with questions, pleads politics student and WSN columnist Gurleen Kaur.

DAUGHTERS OF GAZA ARE PLEADING TODAY AS they witness the hearts filled with sorrow and helplessness. Yet their determination to fight back is so palpable.  As a humanist who was pained at the killing of 3-year-old Tanya Kaur in a Gurdwara in Kabul, I could not help but share my pain at the merciless killings of children in Gaza.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of the bombs,
the decaying homes, the bleeding wombs,
All taken away by terror,
once protected by love and prayers of the moms.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of my mother’s screams,
my little brothers’ shattering dreams
As they get their legs and arms tattooed,
Hoping somebody would find the parts of Sahim, Rahim or Karim.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of my father’s tears,
as he looked at me, in his eyes, fear
Something I had never seen,
His hands shaking from the strident noise he hears.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of a sad old voice struggling to rhyme,
my grandma singing to me at nine, questioning God if any of us would see the next shine
As she innocently tries to lie,
Everything’s fine.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of the neighborhood turned into dust overnight,
my dead grandpa lying next to the heaps of brick of my height
And many begging for hospitals
To which they no longer have the right.

I am the daughter of Gaza
I am witness of your crimes, of my people dying, of the babies crying,
and I am asking you what I asked as a daughter in Afghanistan
“Ask your soul,
Which vic­tory does it glo­rify?”