Burning Beneath

The weight of silence is heavy. A genocide is unfolding in Gaza, and the world is watching—some in horror, others in indifference, but most in silence. How is it possible that, in an age where information travels faster than light, where injustice can be exposed in real time, the response remains muted, the action absent?

Palestine was once a whole country. A land with its own people, its own history, its own life. And yet, step by step, decade by decade, it was carved away—first through migration, then through land purchases, then through force. The map changed. The blue spread. Each year, less remained. And now, Gaza stands as the last fragment, shrinking, suffocating under the weight of bombs, blockades, and an occupation that has never relented.

What makes it even more devastating is that this isn’t just happening in the dark. It’s not a forgotten war, not a buried atrocity. It’s happening in front of our eyes, live-streamed to the world, yet met with silence from those who hold power. The major powers—the ones who dictate narratives, who decide which lives matter and which do not—have chosen complicity. Because silence is a choice. And when silence serves the interests of those in control, when it protects profits, alliances, and political stability, it becomes the easiest path to follow.

The leaders who once dared to speak, to resist, to stand for justice—where are they now? Replaced. Eliminated. Erased. What remains are hollow figures, puppets whose strings are pulled by hidden hands, whose voices do not carry weight but merely repeat rehearsed lines, just enough to maintain appearances.

And so, the bombs keep falling. The numbers keep rising. The world keeps watching. And history will record this moment as it has recorded many before it: not just the suffering, but the silence that enabled it.