Children's Terror

When I was little, I was terrified whenever adults argued in front of me, especially if it was my parents.  was always afraid they would divorce, and I worried about my brother and me. I always sided with my mother, despite her harshness and despite my deep love for my father.

Now, when I look at the children of the world, I grieve for them. Arguments between adults are no longer just raised voices, verbal abuse, or threats of divorce. They are now exposed to witnessing murders, often very violent ones, and are witnesses to horrific domestic violence. They are also victims of violence themselves, sometimes at the hands of their own parents.

All of this isn't the worst-case scenario. The worst scenario is what Muslim children everywhere are enduring: bombing, killing, starvation, home demolitions, displacement, arrest, rape, and even their murder is merciless. Some are denied food, others medicine and treatment, living through their worst nightmares, suffering and pain until death. Some die from the cold or from homelessness, without shelter or walls to protect them from the winter's chill and the summer's heat.

Whenever I look at the children of Sudan, Gaza, the Uyghurs, and the Rohingya, I'm reminded of the terror I feel from such trivial things, whether it's an adult squabble, a mouse running past me, a small reptile crawling on the walls, or even just the fear of any insect. I now know that my generation had a wonderful, happy childhood, and my heart bleeds with horror at what children everywhere are enduring in this cruel world, which truly makes us long for Judgment Day so that those who have had mercy ripped from their hearts will be held accountable, those who used children, women, and the elderly as targets in their wars, their thirst for blood knowing no bounds.