i am not writing this to find answers

I can spend my entire life resisting exhaustion, resisting the fading of imagination, finding word after word to make others feel even a fraction of the responsibility I feel toward human lives.

Every night, I feel the need to pray, to reach the sky, to look for something I have been missing for a long time. But I cannot feel anything except cold and pain.

I am not writing this to find answers. I am writing it to share it here. I am searching for peace, for babies whose lives are barely held by their soft, pink skin as the cold takes over.

Do not try to convince me that the sky is not my enemy. I already know that. The sky is not a weapon. Rain is not bullets. And yet, babies here still die because of them.

Imagine this: You are in a tent now. Your family is with you, crammed into a tiny space, surrounded by cold and rain. You are busy holding the tent together, trying to keep it from collapsing.

Your baby is no longer crying. He is too pink. Too cold. He is gone.

You are in a hospital with your children. All of them are vomiting, coughing, and burning with fever. An organism entered their bodies through polluted sewage water, water contaminated with mouse waste.

You return home, and it collapses on your head. You save everyone. You keep trying to save your baby, the one who already died before. You forgot, for a moment, that he did not survive last time.

The rain returns. You look at your children's souls, around you, shivering, waiting to know whose turn it will be next.

You are a father. You are outside, trying to save someone else's children from the same fate.

The world lost the moment it allowed criminals to believe that killing children, by any means, could be forgiven.

There is no civilization on earth.No religion. No nationality. No army. No superhero. Not all the art humanity has ever created. Not all the medicine capable of saving lives. Not all the poetry that gives people meaning. Not all the warmth and safety of cities across the world. Not all the love in human hearts. Not all the dreams of peace. Not all the jokes, the laughter, the embraces, the fleeting moments of happiness. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world, is capable of saving the babies of an entire people from freezing to death, after the world has already watched them burn to death.

What kind of curse is this, a curse that seems to have been created for us alone.

This story, this cycle of suffering that only ends in brutal death, never ends.