I have never been a historical burden on anyone, nor a geographical space bounded by a rock or an electric fence, but rather an ontological root in the face of erasure—a philosophical idea that leaps over the ramparts of politics and the walls of geography to define the nation’s identity and shape its unified essence.
It pains me that my Kiffeya is stolen, that my kitchen is ransacked, that my dance is distorted, and that my city is erased! It pains me that my name is falsified, my identity obliterated, and my mosque demolished—without so much as a flicker of concern from you?!
Has the daily spilling of my blood on the news feed become a source of comfort to you? Has the periodic inflicting of death upon my body stirred no conscience within you?! Does it not shame you that the bride of your Arabism has become nothing more than a naked life, raped and murdered daily, without this even being considered a crime—not even in the eyes of the murderer?!
My ongoing death is no longer a natural fate, but a cold, calculated technological fabrication. Yet what troubles me is not the sanctity of my blood spilled across your news bulletins, but the moral death of the nation—which I can only interpret as a death certificate for the global collective conscience!
It pains me to be overlooked by you… It pains me that my victim in Gaza lives in a state of Camusian absurdity; it breaks my heart to write about my own blood with my pen—a pen of the oppressed—in the face of illusory entities that I once thought were my brothers and my family?!
Today I stand atop my own ruins to dismantle civilization and expose humanity’s lie—the so-called “human rights,” “existential justice,” and the “right to life”—for these were never a civilizational document, but rather a barbaric one. What has transpired around Gaza’s open wound bears witness to your human and civilizational sterility—an existential and moral collapse in the face of barbarism cloaked in lies.
Stripping my victims of their humanity and reducing them to mere numbers recorded daily without a twinge of conscience is a complex philosophical problem concerning the trivialization of evil. How could it be otherwise, when in your eyes it remains merely a fleeting local event, yet in my eyes it is an earthquake shaking the very foundations of the nation’s humanistic and ethical philosophy!
I write to you not with ink, but with the cries of children and the tears of the bereaved. Have you forgotten who I am?! Have you forgotten who I am?! I'm Palestine..
I am not a passing station; I am the inevitable destiny of planet Earth. As long as there is a child calling out my name, a Gypsy woman who adores my every detail, a writer who preserves my history, and a resistance fighter who defends my land, I will not die! I will not die… This is the first message to future generations in understanding the “philosophy of steadfastness,” for the battle on my land is a battle for our shared existence around the Path of the Chosen One and the House of Christ.
In conclusion…
I stand before you as the voice of history and as a guardian of Arab and Islamic identity, in order to break free from this existential impasse—which demands that we expose the West’s claim to a monopoly on hypocritical “moral superiority” and false “universal human” values, and to establish a new universal covenant that restores to the human spirit its absolute sanctity and inviolability, and to the human self its dignity, honor, and unshakable self-respect.
I inform you that my freedom is a divine inevitability and not a gift from anyone, but who is the one destined to write the historic document of the conquest of Palestine and earn the honor of liberating it?! God Almighty is the Highest and Most Knowing, and until that time comes, Palestine will remain an open wound, bearing witness to this nation’s futility and its surrender of its spirit before the people and before the Lord of the people.
