O People of Gaza! O People of Palestine!
Forgive us. Though our crime is unforgivable, we humbly plead for your pardon. We stand ashamed before you—both as human beings and as Muslims.

O People of Gaza!
We have remained silent in the face of the continuous atrocities inflicted upon you. Our silence only serves to empower the oppressors. Thus, we share in this injustice against you. As fellow believers, it was our duty to defend you—yet we have not even managed to raise our voices in your support. Our tongues have been bound by caution. We are shackled. Our rulers hold sway over us, while tyrants and deceitful minds dominate the hearts and intellects of our leaders. Though we claim to be free, our freedom is mortgaged. We cannot take a single step against the will of international moneylenders. We fear that speaking out in your favor may bring repercussions. For now, our primary concern has become economic stability. We have chosen the sustenance of our bellies over the freedom of our hearts and the sovereignty of our spirits. As a result, our conscience is gradually falling silent.

O People of Gaza!
Accept our excuses for our limitations. Do not curse us, do not blame us, and do not pierce our half-dead conscience. Your essence and existence spring from the land of the prophets. Every child among you is a beacon of patience, resilience, and freedom. We have been enslaved for centuries; the instinct of servitude has infiltrated every fiber of our being. We thought we had achieved freedom while you remained oppressed, but you have proven that only you are truly free. We are slaves of fifty-seven countries—slaves of necessity, slaves of fear, slaves of our regional biases and financial interests, and above all, slaves of our own appetites!

O People of Gaza!
You have shown the world that the spirit of resistance remains free, even when subdued. Even if one's land is taken, dignity and determination can still endure. A truly free person does not give up the struggle; only those who surrender become slaves. You have not surrendered; you are free. We have given up; we are enslaved. We have become a nation that only raises slogans—yet we claim that "we are a living nation." If you wish to see our vitality, look at the crowds flocking to food streets, or the throngs gathered at theaters, cinemas, and stadiums...

See how "alive" we are!

O People of Gaza!
Do not for a moment think that we do not love our religion. We love our faith deeply; we just do not love our fellow Muslims. Look! Our mosques are filled with worshippers. In our beautifully adorned marble mosques, we pray for you daily through loudspeakers. Yet, when calamity strikes our homes, we rush first for medicine before turning to prayer. We strike our enemies with weapons, but believe that prayer alone suffices to confront yours. For a brother dying of thirst, we offer only words of consolation and prayers. Words—we have in abundance. Each year, we send two and a half million pilgrims from our fifty-seven Islamic countries. If these fifty-seven nations sent just a thousand soldiers each to aid you, the sound of fifty-seven thousand troops marching would terrify your enemies. Yet we have been unable to unite on any decision or action.

Applaud our audacity!
No dish is missing from our dining tables. Our meals are adorned with products from multinational companies that openly finance your killers. We watch your streets and markets turn to rubble each day on our news screens, yet the vibrancy of our own bazaars remains undiminished; our shopping continues without pause. We sleep and wake as we always have. There has been no noticeable change in the days of our luxurious lives. The slumber of negligence continues to lull us, and the sting of necessity drives us from our resting places to the markets and offices. Our mornings fade into evenings, and life simply moves on.

O People of Gaza!
The continuous depiction of atrocities against you—this live-streamed genocide—has stripped humanity of its essence and Muslims of their faith. In earlier eras, when cruelty surged or a horrific genocide took place, the news would reach the rest of the world only after a significant delay. Our ancestors could claim: by the time we learned, it was already too late. But today, in this fast-paced information age, we witness these horrors live each day. The excuse of ignorance is no longer valid.

O People of Gaza!
You have made it painfully clear that we are still far from civilization. Our progress is only skin-deep—we have invented external light, yet within us, there is darkness. Our civilization has regressed. Humanity, as a whole, remains in its infancy in understanding human values. In ethics, altruism, and collective justice, we are still crawling on our knees. We may be followers of the prophets, but our adherence to their teachings is only nominal. The land of Palestine stands as a towering mirror, reflecting the depths of our collective conscience. Yet our conscience has never stirred enough for our words to become actions, or for our resolutions of peace to be realized. We have been neither good humans nor good Muslims, and we have no excuse to present before God or creation.

We have forgotten that we were commanded to stand up for justice. We were warned in the Qur’an (4:75):

"What is the matter with you that you do not fight in the cause of Allah for the weak among men, women, and children who cry out, 'Our Lord, take us out of this city of oppressive people and send for us from Yourself a protector and send for us from Yourself a supporter.'"

O People of Gaza!
Forgive us! We were under the impression that we are Muslims—that we are believers—but our apathy has revealed how Muslim and how faithful we truly are. If we were genuinely believers, we would function as one body. According to the hadith, if one part of the body feels pain, the entire body feels it. The ability to feel pain is a sign of physical life, and suffering—the awareness of others' pain—is proof of spiritual life. It seems we are dead—both physically and spiritually. The selfish are indeed lifeless. In the book of life, only the selfless are worthy of mention. The selfish become so buried in the earth that there is no one left to remember them… no one to mourn for them.

O People of Gaza!
We are ashamed… we have strayed from the unity of the Ummah into fragmented nationalities. Our unity has been shattered. Our narrative is no longer that of the Ummah; it has been borrowed from imperialist forces. Who is deemed a freedom fighter or a terrorist? That narrative is dictated by the inhabitants of the White House. Free nations write their own narratives. But we see our own through the eyes of others and treat outsiders as our own. Until we truly become a “we,” how can we ever stand together or come to each other’s aid?

Aadil Farook, a poet and thinker from Lahore, is known for his award-winning work that weaves Islamic thought with literary and cultural depth. Honored by the Global Peace Song Awards (USA) and nominated for the British Muslim Awards, his writings and translations reflect a life shaped by creativity, conviction, and resilience. Learn more at www.aadilfarook.com.