On what should be a day of celebration and hope, Palestinian Child Day arrives in Gaza beneath a shadow of unbearable grief and destruction. The voices of Gaza’s children—once filled with dreams, laughter, and lessons—are now choked by the smoke of bombs and the silence of mourning.

Since October 2023, the war on Gaza has created the largest orphan crisis of our time. Over 39,000 children have been orphaned; 17,000 of them have lost both parents. The number of child casualties has surpassed 17,950. These are not just numbers—they are classrooms emptied, toys unplayed with, futures shattered. Every child carries trauma too heavy for adult shoulders, let alone their own.

In the rubble of what was once a family tent, 10-year-old Abd Al-Aziz wakes up alone in a hospital bed, his voice a whisper of heartbreak. “I was ready to die,” he says. “But I wished at least one of them stayed. Just one to hold me.” He is now both child and guardian, a survivor robbed of comfort.

Elsewhere, Maram stands on the ruins of her school, where her father and relatives were killed in an airstrike. Her cries pierce the dust-laden air. “They broke our backs,” she says, clutching the memory of those who once protected her. “We don’t want food or water—we just want the war to stop.”

The statistics released on this day are staggering. More than 50,000 Palestinians have been killed, including nearly 18,000 children. Thousands of others suffer from severe malnutrition, amputations, or untreated wounds due to a collapsed health system deliberately targeted and suffocated by blockade. Entire generations are now growing up without limbs, without homes, without parents.

Yet, the world remains mostly silent.

In Gaza, the very concept of childhood has been bombed out of existence. The laughter has been replaced with screams. The dreams—if any remain—are whispered in the dark, alone, and unheard.

Is humanity listening? Or are these children—who ask for nothing but an end to war—calling out into a void too numb to answer?