I try to comfort them with a little water —
the only thing I have left to give

Our home completely destroyed

My kids 💔

Her skin peels, the burning spreads every time the temperature rises.
Sometimes I press a cloth dampened with water that turns warm before it even touches her,
and sometimes, I can’t even find water.

This is not life — this is an insult to childhood.

“Mama, I don’t want to scratch.”
And I can only hold her tiny hands and whisper comfort, knowing the pain won’t stop.

The tent that is supposed to protect her has become a trap of sweat, dust, and suffocation no air, no medicine, no rest.
Her nights are filled with crying, her hoarse voice begging for something so small:

My child sella being torn apart by life the way fire devours paper.

Sila’s small body can no longer endure what even adults can’t bear.
Eczema covers her skin, and rashes break out across her face and hands because of the crushing heat inside the tents of death.

They have been deprived of school, of play, of safety — of childhood itself.
And all I want now, as a mother, is to see them eat well, sleep without fear, and grow up in a world where destruction no longer follows them.

And little Kareem — the youngest after Sila — learned the meaning of fear before he even learned the alphabet. He trembles at the sound of planes and whenever the lights go out.

Qusai loved to play football, but he lost his ball along with everything else we lost, and now he kicks pebbles in the ruined streets as if trying to remember what joy once felt like.

Waleed used to dream of becoming an engineer, building beautiful homes for others, but now he thinks only of how to survive another day.

My three boys — Waleed, Qusai, and Kareem — once filled our home with noise and laughter. Today, all that sound has turned into a heavy silence and lost eyes, searching for safety, for food, for a warm bed, for just one moment of the childhood that was stolen from them.

I am the mother of Sila, Waleed, Qusai, and Kareem —we are in the poor tent right now
I’am a mother of four children who have been deprived of everything, of the simplest rights of childhood, because of this war of extermination.

All I want now is to secure a dignified life for her and her brothers a life with food, safety, and a morning light that does not frighten us. Sila deserves to grow up, to play, to laugh not to fight hunger and death while she is still a child.

Every mother wishes to see her child grow up healthy and happy. But I count the days and watch Sila’s breaths, afraid that her tiny body might give up before this war ends. I hold her every night and whisper that tomorrow will be better, though I no longer know if I believe it myself.

and her thin body suffers from malnutrition, because food is no longer available as it used to be.

Sometimes we find only a bit of bread and water, and sometimes nothing at all.
She need milk daily😩