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“When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace.” ~ Jimi Hendrix

On February 6, 2023, a 7.8-magnitude earthquake took place in the Middle East and caused horrific damages in Syria and Turkey.

Heart is bleeding, no matter how far we physically seem to be. Heart is bleeding because we are all connected and the pain and suffering of humanity is contagious no matter how far—it is close, so close, no matter how far.

In my country, Lebanon, we felt the earthquake at 3:20 a.m. We woke up and saw our houses terribly shacking for 40 seconds. It was terrifying, yet it ended, and we slept to witness another day. However, in both Turkey and Syria, they also felt that earthquake; some woke up, others didn’t. Buildings that were supposed to protect them fell under their heads, and they all fell down—from their beds, from their homes, from the second, third, fourth, and fifth floor to the ground floor. They all shared a common fate; they all fell down.

Some woke up because you can’t just not wake up after such a fall, can you? Others, well, hundreds of families, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, girls and boys, babies and kids, grandparents, aunts, colleagues, teachers, whoever they were, they all shared the same fate, and it all ended there. They are gone; they never really woke up. It was their last moment—a moment they never saw coming. Is this real?

The earthquake’s death toll tops 28,000 in Turkey and Syria, not counting the injured and the lost ones.

It is deeply painful and unreal to move on while millions are suffering around us, only a few miles away. We have to take our time to grieve and share the pain of the Syrian people who have been suffering 11 years of war.

But faith (yes, faith) and hope are still there; they still find their way in that darkness, all the way to our hearts. Hope is coming from the people, to the people, and in the midst of it all, those who are suffering the consequences of the earthquake are them—the very ones who are sending us strength, who are maintaining our anger of being incapable of being there with them, who are forgiving us and the world for not doing more. They send us with their on-going resilience and mercy a tranquil grief.

Syria, allow me to kneel in front of your persisting pain since 2011, the long suffering of your people, for more than 11 years now, bleeding every day alone, slowly, and standing up on your feet to keep moving forward in hopes of finding that light at end of the tunnel.

The whole world unites under common words in the virtual world that was created for “socializing” purposes, but that isn’t always working, is it? Our hearts, although hurting with all the pain people are feeling right now, just while posting, sharing, reading, or simply scrolling our social media accounts, are still searching to rescue survivors. I hope that solidarity could be the small light shining at the end of an extremely dark tunnel, but it shows, it shows, even if it’s still far.

Solidarity with the people of Syria and Turkey, Lebanon, Palestine, every country in the Middle East, and also the whole world that is suffering from natural disasters, wars, and power greed. Solidarity with those who are still attempting to send hope in any way.

Power, from the people, to the people.

Solidarity, I wish you had super powers—the power to save all those who died. But despite your limited powers, you still heal a small whole in our hearts.

Solidarity, please don’t leave us alone; we need you. 

Let’s keep showing solidarity, together! They need us to prevent them from living the war twice.

~

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