Dear Palestine

I have been wanting to write to you for a long. But ashamed I am, for the guilt, the guilt of not being there for you, the guilt of neglecting you, the guilt of never being able to help, the guilt of losing you, the guilt of this lost love has been roaring and the remorse has taken over each minute of my life.

You are our heart. You have always been. Special, precious. More than that, you have been مبارك – Blessed, as declared by the Lord of the worlds! No doubt how our hearts love you. Allah put it inside for us.

For years you have been a lost love. This is the first time you have become dearer than ever. Precious, near and a part of our hearts. Your being, itself, the essence of Islam, the glory of our faith. Your vast blue sky, your olive gardens, your palm trees, your elderly epitomes of bravery, your women symbols of love that the world has never seen, your youth unlike any other – determined, focused, fighters in the path of justice, your children full of life with radiance in their smiles, the weight of their faith, the strength in their will, the courage in their demeanor, shines through our hearts, instills in us the same, guides us, inspires us and more than anything, humbles us to the core.

The patience you hold on to, the patience you practice, the patience you showcase, the patience you live by, the patience you turn to, the patience you breathe in, Oh souls of Paradise, Oh protectors of Al Quds, Oh Fighters of Islam! Blessings and glad tidings to you!

For the moments in which patience seems as a burning coal to hold on to, you fly higher with words of praise for Allah, thanking Him in the purest form, practicing gratefulness even when patience seems to fall.

But I know oh Protectors of Al Quds,

That it has been a long tiring journey…

I know oh my beloveds, this has been a suffering unprecedented, This has been a stab that bleeds for ages. That this has been the pain unbearable for real.

Words would never express the loss of the baby who died before even before being born into the world.

Or the mother who cried searching the limbs of her son.

The eyes of the baby embodying what “being afraid” means, his shaking little body unveiling horrors unimaginable.

The injured brother making sure his brother covered in blood utters the Shahadah,

The friend finding a ball to play with, encounters the blasting fires, haunting his childhood, his past, present and future.

Doctors treating the wounded, while their own children depart the world.

Mothers waking their children up from death only to feed them once more.

The bodies dustied, the air poisoned, the sky darkened with smoke, the eyes searching for peace, the minds in trance, from pictures of sweet memories to the glares of horror.

Appetite lost as nothing of the food remains, no water, no resource, no justice, no life.

The uncertainty, the loss, the complete cut off from the world,

Yet,

No fear.

No hope lost.

You symbolize what we can only admire.

Your levels of Jannah promised are the most highest.

But I know, my beloveds especially Oh Gaza.

What you mean when you say the world let you down.

I wish I could tell you I don’t want to ever let you down, I will never let you down.

But where we stand today, Your screams, your voices, your expressions of disappointment, pain and hurt, your complete hope in the Allah and sighs… the complete hopelessness in us is ever justified, ever so right.

I wish I could bleed with you.

I wish I could stand.

I wish I could stop.

I wish I would never let this happen.

I would never let you down.

But here I am,

Ashamed in myself, ashamed in front of you, humility tears me apart, as I traverse through the journey of my life, my standing before our Rabb scares me to the core, when He will ask me, where was I, while you suffered?

With nothing but holding on to the only weapon our Prophet ﷺ gave us,

The weapon of Dua that I still carry, having lost the other arms.

Reclaiming, however, the weapon of faith, the weapon of action, the weapons of resilience, patience, gratefulness and strength…

In YOUR footsteps.

Every minute filled with your thoughts, every second in your love, every breath in your dream.

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Opinion Desk.