Another Bloody morning in Palestine
Fadi Abu Sada
Although I went to bed at 2am Wednesday morning, and woke up at 5am, I was feeling great. My little child woke me up, he wanted to play, Dawn had not yet clearly overlooked. We played a little and we saw the sunrise together, it seemed beautiful day.
I’m not used to have this beautiful feeling for a long time in this country, My mobile returned to start the usual resonance, Although the time was still early, the bad news first from Yamoun village, near Jenin, I was told that five Palestinian martyrs in the special operation carried out by the occupation army in the village.
I wasn’t able to do anything for few moments for what I heard on the phone, I switched on my computer and started working, few minutes only between this call and the second one, this time from Gaza, Once I know who was calling, I realized what’s in the way, I answered the phone and I became riveted for long moments.
The news that I have is the deaths of dozens of martyrs and wounded in the Israeli bombing of houses in Beit Hanoun, north of Gaza Strip, and tank shells fell on a residential neighborhood in the town.
A red morning, dunked in blood, this morning, which was felt that it would be nice for the moment of sunrise, which I followed, yes this is the daily life in the Palestinian territories.
We are quasi-human beings, dead people alive, bodies without souls, lost every emotion owned by the people, we hold much and we pay a lot of lives, and blood for the sake of freedom, this freedom, which we fight for it for decades.
The children were sleeping, dreaming about going to their schools after the end of the strike of teachers, dreaming of a quiet day among their friends, wishing moments of calm after a week long in the northern Gaza Strip.
These children, access to Gaza hospitals is disjointed pieces, taken out of their beds, from the arms of their mothers.
I can not find words to express my feelings of provocation, great sadness, pain, which has staggering me and every single human being.
I am tired of the complaint even though by writing to unload a little of the feelings, the complaint for non-insulting God, I know, but Sorry God, I can’t hold it anymore.
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