Any help, no matter how small, can restore a glimmer of life to us.
United States
months left
My name is Mohammed, from Gaza. Before the war, I lived with my family in a simple house filled with love, despite the difficult circumstances. I would wake up every day to the laughter of my children, and the only dream in my heart was to provide them with safety, education, and dignity. But in an instant, everything collapsed. A missile tore through the neighborhood, leaving nothing of the house but dust and memories hanging between the crumbling walls. I carried my children from under the rubble, with a bleeding hand and a heart that bled even more. My wife was crying, and I was trying to appear strong, but the truth is, I was completely broken inside. My children now ask me, “Dad, when will we go home?” and I have no answer. One of my children was born in the war, born to the sound of bombing, not ululations. No milk, no mattress, no roof, just my warm embrace that I try to make a home. I appeal to you… from an aching heart, and from under the rubble of pain, to stand with us. Any help, no matter how small, can restore a glimmer of life to us. We need a home, food to satisfy my children’s hunger, and medicine for those who survive with invisible wounds. Help me, for my children’s dignity is a trust upon me.
Anonymous
-
$25,000.00
Funding Goal -
$0.00
Funds Raised -
0
Days to go -
Campaign Never Ends
Campaign End Method
Product Description
United States
months left
My name is Mohammed, from Gaza. Before the war, I lived with my family in a simple house filled with love, despite the difficult circumstances. I would wake up every day to the laughter of my children, and the only dream in my heart was to provide them with safety, education, and dignity. But in an instant, everything collapsed. A missile tore through the neighborhood, leaving nothing of the house but dust and memories hanging between the crumbling walls. I carried my children from under the rubble, with a bleeding hand and a heart that bled even more. My wife was crying, and I was trying to appear strong, but the truth is, I was completely broken inside. My children now ask me, “Dad, when will we go home?” and I have no answer. One of my children was born in the war, born to the sound of bombing, not ululations. No milk, no mattress, no roof, just my warm embrace that I try to make a home. I appeal to you… from an aching heart, and from under the rubble of pain, to stand with us. Any help, no matter how small, can restore a glimmer of life to us. We need a home, food to satisfy my children’s hunger, and medicine for those who survive with invisible wounds. Help me, for my children’s dignity is a trust upon me.
Anonymous
| ID | Name | Amount | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1244 | Listing Agent | [email protected] | |
| 1215 | Listing Agent | [email protected] |
