We Are Genocide Survivors. But Our War Is Far From Over.

"Around 70,000 people-that we know of-were killed in the past two years. Thousands are still buried beneath the rubble. We don't even know all their names. These aren't just numbers. These are entire families erased, students who will never return to school, newborns who never made it past their first cry. These are my neighbors, my friends, my relatives, my people. Gaza is not just rubble now; it is memory, trauma, and broken dreams wrapped in dust and blood."

"Yesterday, I was in our small apartment in northern Gaza, in the Al-Rimal neighborhood, where my family and I have been living since IOF soldiers destroyed our original home. I had just finished making tea and was preparing for an exam-one I had to take online, despite everything. Then my sister Huda, 21, was awakened by a phone call. Her friend told her the ceasefire would begin at 12 pm. "A ceasefire! A ceasefire!" she shouted, her voice shaking with disbelief."

After two years of relentless bombing, a ceasefire has begun, bringing simultaneous relief and lingering sorrow. Approximately 70,000 people are known killed, with thousands still buried beneath rubble and many names unknown. Entire families were erased, students will not return to school, and newborns never survived their first cries. Homes were destroyed and communities displaced, turning Gaza into a landscape of memory, trauma, and shattered dreams. In northern Gaza, displaced families reacted with cautious hope—celebration, laughter, and crying—while fears of last-minute attacks proved justified when one morning became especially bloody. The end of missiles marks the start of deep mourning and long recovery.

Read at The Nation