This Children's Day: Lost childhood in war-ridden lands

In the war-ridden lands of Palestine and Lebanon, where shadows loom larger than laughter, children wake to the sun's hesitant embrace, its warmth muted by the chill of loss. Their tiny hands, once filled with toys and dreams, now clutch memories like fragile petals, afraid they'll crumble into dust. In the absence of their mothers' tender lullabies, they navigate the rubble-strewn streets, their eyes haunted by the specters of happier times that now seem distant amid "Israel's" relentless airstrikes and incursions. Amid the shattered homes, there are mothers whose tears stain the Earth like raindrops on parched soil, as they mourn their children who once danced in their arms. In these lands where childhood is but a fleeting whisper, each day is a battle, fought not with strikes, but with the silent screams of grief and the resilient whispers of hope that refuse to be silenced.