Dreams and aspirations once reached the heavens, but when the drums of war sounded, fires came from where we least expected, snatching away dreams, hopes, futures, and children's toys. They left tears and screams, and hearts agonizing over their future.
My eldest daughter, Sham, asks me, 'Has my doll died? Who will bury her? Will she go to heaven? She was so beautiful, will she live another beautiful life there?'
Oh Allah, how can I answer her, with words that touch her sweetheart? Will my answer make her forget what she saw?
I drew her a story in a notebook and told her, 'This is your doll, she's traveling now and will return when the war is over. Don't worry, she'll come back with a beautiful dress even more beautiful than the one that burned, and she'll come back with love to accompany you as you grow up together.'
What are those drops on my cheek? Oh Allah, they are tears. Where did they come from? No, no, I can't be crying!
Sham fell asleep, but there is so much more that cannot be expressed...
Let's start by donating to change the lives of my children for the better.
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