Her gesture in worrying about her mother, about not wanting to cause a beloved parent any grief was partly genuine, and partly an attempt to distract herself from the fact that she knew something terrible had just happened to her. Indeed a child’s sweetness knows no bounds, irrespective of where such a child can be found in the world.
As she lie in a bath of her own warm blood that increased with each passing second, while frantic adults attempt to effect that which they know is futile, all she can think is that her mother must be worried, and how she wishes she could be home with her now, if only for enough time to give her one final embrace, tell her of a daughter’s love, and to say goodbye.
Sweets, an indispensable part of any child’s life, even in places that have been torn apart by warfare for the last century
Mona grew up in a world of bullets and mortars, allowed the carelessness of her childhood to overpower her reason just enough to persuade her towards venturing f
As she lie in a bath of her own warm blood that increased with each passing second, while frantic adults attempt to effect that which they know is futile, all she can think is that her mother must be worried, and how she wishes she could be home with her now, if only for enough time to give her one final embrace, tell her of a daughter’s love, and to say goodbye.
Sweets, an indispensable part of any child’s life, even in places that have been torn apart by warfare for the last century
Mona grew up in a world of bullets and mortars, allowed the carelessness of her childhood to overpower her reason just enough to persuade her towards venturing f
Independence Day “I have to get home to my mother, she will be so worried if I am not back soon.” 9 year-old Mona clutched at the gaping hole in her stomach, blood pouring out of her as if someone had turned on a faucet. There was something so terribly and indescribably out of place in her frail words, the colliding of two disparate worlds, that of a mother’s child, and that of a little girl facing down the ugliest of what life and humanity had to offer. The man who was kneeling at her side however knew better. He was a trained medical professional, and in a war zone known as Gaza of all places. He had seen this scenario a thousand times before, and a thousand times too many as far as he was concerned. This child would not be going home, at least not her earthly home, given the fact that she had just been shot in the stomach at close range by a soldier wielding a machine gun, the bullets from which produced exit wounds on her tiny body that were as large as golf balls.
|
3 comments:
Kkcapricorn says ...
there are no words for such travesties
I found it difficult to control my emotions and thoughts too.
It reminds me to remember how fortunate that I am to live my 'placid' life in peaceful Ireland, but reminds me of my obligations as a human to do what I can.
The full article is well worth reading.
his article seems to have hit a cord in out deeper common humanity. Another side of this maybe in another clip by aphonicsecret entitled Jihadi Groups ”Luring” Kids to Turn Suicide-Bombers
My response was...
"No terrorist/subversive/liberation/whatever can survive without at least some locals support. Whether IRA/Irgun/American patriots/Mao/whoever, all required the support of the locals. 'Hearts and Minds' If you disagree with me so far then nothing further that I write will mean anything.
If it's human shields, suicide bombing, subversive activities or whatever, NONE will work if not with the support of locals.
We only read of these from the 'big powers' point of view. If you use your intellect then it doesn't make sense, to me anyway.
If the best I have is an AF47 against armour, tell me what are my odds. He's a professional soldier in my country. My death is inevitable. It only has meaning within my community if it is 'glorious'. Think insect/animal instinct here.
Only if I'm a westerner living with Fox Terror Alerts could an intellectual person could I be taken in by this fake fear of the 'mad unhinged jihadist'.
Most of you are too young to remember Bobby Sands, a white Christian Irishman, in the 1981 Irish hunger strike when he and 9 others starved themselves consecutively to DEATH. Personally, I'd prefer the quick suicide with some of my enemies! And yet 100,000 people attended his funeral.
I remind you of Bobby Sands to insure that when you view these reports that your judgement is not coloured by RACISM or religion. If you perceive their actions as somehow less than human, then we have all lost. Only the REALLY BAD people who manipulate events and their reporting will have gained.
Do NOT be afraid. Stop watching Foxcrap. Use your intellect."
I'm not at all sure of the ethics of joining up 2 clips. My heart says it's Ok.
Post a Comment