The old woman walked toward Al-Aqsa Mosque with her young daughter, Omniya, who was no more than ten years old. The innocence of childhood was clearly visible on Omniya’s face, but as soon as they reached the gate of the mosque, they were met with an unexpected obstacle. There stood a large, muscular soldier with harsh, ugly features — the embodiment of brute force and cruelty.
Soldier: “Old woman, where are you going?”
Old woman: “And who are you to ask me where I’m going?”
Soldier: “How dare an old woman try to outsmart me with her words?”
Old woman: “You are asking about something that is none of your concern. The love of Jerusalem lives in the hearts of both the young and the old. You cannot stop us, no matter how powerful you think you are, for you stand on land that does not belong to you.”
Soldier (mocking): “Does it belong to you then? Why don’t you act freely in it, if we walk its streets and fill your hearts with fear?”
At that moment, Omniya began reciting rhythmic, meaningful words — words that carried the weight of truth, born from the heart of a gentle soul who loved her homeland deeply.
Soldier: “Be quiet! I can’t bear to hear this!”
Omniya: “This is not mere talk; it is the weapon of a wounded people who have tasted the bitterness of oppression. I am the people, and I say: My country, my homeland, runs through my veins. For you, my homeland, I offer my heart and my voice.”
Old woman (holding her close with tenderness): “Enough, my daughter. How can we convince a heart that has turned to stone? He has drunk the bitterness of blood, taken our land, displaced our children, and now he forbids us from entering the house of God. Let us go, my dear.”
Omniya (raising her voice through innocent tears): “Mother, until when? Until when will we live under humiliation, oppression, and corruption? Are we not a proud nation that once commanded respect from all others? No, by God, I will not allow humiliation to take root in my blood. Leave us be — we are free!”
Soldier (raising his weapon toward the innocence before him): “Get out of my sight before I empty my gun into your bodies.”
Old woman (calmly): “Do not be afraid, my daughter. No matter the size of his weapon, your courage in defending your homeland is greater. And you, you weak man, how many weapons have been aimed at my head only to find it as strong as steel, deflecting bullets with pride.”
Despite her bravery and resistance, the soldier fired his weapon at the old woman as she tried to enter the mosque. She fell to the ground, smiling — for she had achieved her wish, even though the end was painful.
As Omniya began to scream and weep, heartbroken at seeing her mother die before her eyes, she understood in that moment that her homeland was worth every sacrifice.
Thus, the struggle continues, passed down through generations, until the desire for revenge becomes deeply rooted in their hearts.
— Youssef El-Hob
