I am from Gaza… and the Pain Never Leaves Me

My name is Amani, a mother of seven children. I used to bake bread with my own hands, hold my children close every evening… Now, we are scattered. I no longer see them. I no longer hear their laughter.

My son Ibrahim was playing in our yard. He came back to me carried in someone’s arms—his hand amputated, shrapnel lodged in his kidney, lung, chest, and pelvis. I cried until my tears ran dry. I rushed him to the hospital, alone… with no one beside me.

War stole my home, tore my family apart, and drowned me in a night with no dawn. All I have now is a broken mother’s heart, and a voice choked with prayer.

My injured children need medicine, food, and the warmth of a mother’s embrace that war has shattered. No income. No security. No support. And I stand alone in this painful exile.

But I refuse to give up. I launched an educational website called “Deen & Dunya” to teach Qur’an, Arabic, and Islamic studies online. I hope this work becomes a door of sustenance—not for me—but for my wounded children.

Every dollar I earn goes toward feeding a weak body, buying medicine to ease the pain, or a blanket to shield them from the cold of displacement.

To everyone reading this: Please help me spread the word. Help me continue. I am a mother from Gaza… and all I have left is the hope that the world does not forget me.

I am from Gaza… my heart lies beneath the rubble, but I am still breathing.