Poet Sufia Kamal, at the very beginning of her poem “Taharei Pore Mone” (“I Remember Only Him”), wrote:
“O poet, why are you silent when spring has arrived on earth?
Will you not welcome it with your songs of praise?”
In this timeless poem, the question is used to express the poet’s sorrow, melancholy, and the profound grief of losing a loved one. Spring, the king of seasons, has arrived in nature; the surroundings are filled with birdsong, fresh blossoms, and fragrant breezes. Yet the poet is so overwhelmed by the pain of loss that she cannot write a single song or poem in this joyful season.
Are we, too, so consumed by grief today that even after the brutal killing of children in Gaza, our silence remains unbroken? There is a saying: “Minor grief makes one weep; overwhelming grief turns one to stone.”
A person may cry and lament in ordinary sorrow, but when grief reaches its extreme, one becomes speechless and numb. Is it because of such helplessness that we remain silent and motionless even after witnessing the cruel fate of Gaza’s children?
According to a report by an independent international commission of the United Nations, from October 7, 2023, to October 7, 2025, children in Gaza were systematically and indiscriminately targeted and killed.
During this period, 20,179 children were reportedly killed. These child deaths accounted for 30 percent of all Palestinians killed in the conflict during that time. Many children also died from starvation due to restrictions on the movement of medicine, food, and humanitarian aid.
This stain upon the forehead of history—who has the power to erase it from the annals of human civilization? This massacre is not merely a war crime or a crime against humanity; it is portrayed as a planned, prolonged, and horrifying act of ethnic cleansing.
By killing children and wiping out a generation, not only are adults left terrified and vulnerable, but future voices of protest are also silenced. In such circumstances, the implementation of expansionist policies becomes easier.
History bears witness that innocent children often become the greatest victims of imperial ambitions.
After Gaza, the cries of innocent children in the West Bank are now shaking the heavens and the earth. There, too, similar destruction and bloodshed are said to be taking place. Where will this end? Even after ceasefire agreements, such killings have not ceased.
When hungry, thirsty, and medicine-deprived children die under bombings or from the agony of starvation, all pride in humanity is shattered. When newborn infants breathe their last in besieged hospital wards for lack of oxygen, those whose hearts are not moved by such scenes are a disgrace to humanity.
Shame on this affluent world; shame on the international community and world leaders who continue to sleep with their eyes open. They see everything, yet pretend not to see.
Would it be an exaggeration to say that they are, in a sense, taking pleasure in the helplessness of peace-loving people around the world, who have become petrified by grief?
The conscience of the world, which often raises its voice over narrow interests or geopolitical calculations, now appears mute and deaf in the face of such suffering. The words of sympathy offered by powerful nations sound like hollow mockery.
At the same time, they are accused of placing deadly weapons into the hands of the perpetrators. International laws, regulations, and lofty declarations of human rights all seem futile and meaningless today. Does this not mock the moral bankruptcy of the global conscience?
There is still time. Let the playing of games with the lives of children—pure as flowers, regardless of their nationality—come to an end. Let all inhumanity, cruelty, and barbarity cease. Otherwise, history will never forgive us.
