The Silence of Your Children

Palestine wrote: The Silence of Your Children The calm Martyred Al-Qassam Brigades Forum Dear Mom and Dad, I remember when you used to come into my room at night and kiss my forehead. I remember you mom pulling up my blankets, so that all of me was covered and warm. I remember you dad shutting the windows and checking the locks, to be sure I was safe. I remember the smell of Inscent in my room that crept from the living room. I remember the hall light on, to help me incase I awoke in the middle of the night. I remember your smiles and gentle touch. I miss you mom and dad. Please pray for me, I want to come home. My 13th Birthday is coming and I don't want to be here. In here there are only 6 blankets to share and there are 15 of us in this room. There is 1 window at the top of the wall but too high to see outside. The floor where we sleep is always damp from the rain coming in the window. The only light in this room is from the window. And today my friend died, he didn't get to see the doctor when he fell ill from the cold. I think I will die soon mom and dad, please pray for me to come home. The night this young child wrote to his parents, He died of hypothermia. His pleas to be returned home to his family, are the pleas of the many still in occupation jails. These children are imprisoned for resisting occupation. The faces of these children are but memories to their parents and friends. Dear Anyone, My name is Hamza, I am 12 years old. My parents were killed last year, the day I came here. They were trying to protect me from the soldiers came to the door, late one night. They said I was part of a group of boys who were thought to have been seen in a no zone area. My friends and I were playing in a field along the destroyed houses, throwing rocks at a wall. Some soldiers came and we ran. That night the soldiers came to arrest me. My father answered the door. When the soldier told my mother to go and get me, she began to run up the stairs, he shot my mom and then my dad. My brothers and sisters are gone I don't know what ever happened to them. I am writing this letter, in great hopes someone knows that I am here. The young child that wrote this plea to anyone who would listen, Died alone in a cell of children just like him. Dear Brothers and Sisters, Those of you reading this may not know that hundreds of children the same age as yours, are in prison and that many don't know why there are there. The children the same age as your children, think about it. When you put your child to bed Please don't forget to look at your child's face, remember his or her smiles, their scents, their eyes because one day they may be gone. Maybe a burglar will break into your home and take your child, or fatally do harm to them. Maybe when the knock at your door is someone who wishes to take your child because of a rumor. Think hard about what your child looked like the last time you seen them. And now look at what a parent in an occupation country sees last of their children. If they are not imprisoned or missing, they are dead.

Bismillah,

I agree with Sister Angela, .

When a child is taken from you and you don't see that dear child whom you carried against the threat of death in your womb, eating only to help it live, living to see it smile, to do your duty and gladly so, to your Lord, you die also.  And all of this death still must be overcome with the belief and faith that our Ever Present Lord has instilled us with.  Such pain lingers like a thief ready to steal any sanity or peace or happiness you may find left in this empty world.  Despite that or because of that we must perservere until our Loving Lord take us home to Him.

Peace to All Lost Children and Parents of Lost Children