In Gaza, where joy is often a casualty of war, Eid brought only silence and suffering for ten-year-old Mohammad Abu Muammar. Once a spirited child with a simple dream of becoming a policeman, Mohammad now lies motionless in a hospital bed, blind and paralysed—his life shattered by an Israeli missile.

On what should have been a day of celebration, shrapnel tore through his small body outside his grandfather’s home in Khan Younis. A single moment stole his sight, his mobility, and claimed the life of his aunt. His uncles were left wounded. His father now battles bureaucracy and closed borders, desperately trying to get his son treatment abroad as Gaza’s health system collapses under siege.

“I just want to see again,” Mohammad keeps whispering. Not to play, not to run—just to see his mother’s face.

Mohammad’s story is not unique in Gaza. It is one of thousands. Children here are not just collateral damage—they are among the primary victims. Each statistic is a stolen future, a silenced voice, a broken dream.

As the war on Gaza enters its second year, the numbers rise—but behind each one is a child like Mohammad, yearning for light in endless darkness.