They stood in line for food. They left in coffins.
In the southern Gaza city of Rafah, where the dust of bombed-out buildings chokes the air and hunger is as constant as grief, a line of desperate civilians gathered Tuesday morning around what they thought was a lifeline, an aid distribution point. Instead, it became a killing ground. At least 27 Palestinians, including children, were gunned down or crushed in a stampede after Israeli forces opened fire near the food line.
It is hard to describe the horror unless you have seen the footage: bags of flour stained red, a mother screaming over her son, the shattered body, volunteers running for their lives, not from warplanes, but from bullets aimed at people already broken.
The Israeli military claims it was a security response, that some people strayed into unauthorized areas. But here is the thing: in Gaza today, there is no map of safety. The entire strip is a maze of hunger, rubble, and death. Every safe zone becomes a target. Every promise of aid comes with the risk of becoming a statistic.
This is not the first time it is happened, and heartbreakingly, it probably will not be the last. In just three days, nearly 70 people have been killed near aid sites. And still, the world watches.
Israel says it is targeting Hamas. But when the death toll exceeds 54,000, the majority women and children, we have to ask: at what point does this become something more than war? At what point does it become annihilation?
The West calls for restraint. Restraint? Against a population without clean water, electricity, or enough food to feed a child for a day? These are not combatants. They are civilians. They are human beings.
Rafah, once called the last refuge, is now just another city of ghosts. The hospital is overrun. Doctors are sewing up wounds without anesthesia. Aid groups are pleading for safe corridors, but the trucks are being hit too. Even the humanitarian foundation backed by the U.S. and Qatar is not safe — their own convoys have been fired on, despite coordinating with Israel.
And still, they try. Nurses like Rania Al-Kurd keep showing up. Volunteers return to the rubble to hand out food. We are burying hope, she said yesterday, but we’re still here.
The international community is watching. And yes, some leaders have spoken. Some have even raised the word war crimes. But while statements are being drafted in air-conditioned rooms, the children of Gaza are dying in breadlines.
This is not just a failure of diplomacy, it is a collapse of morality. We cannot look away. Not anymore.
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