Gaza continues to prove its strength and resilience amid the ongoing bleeding Gazans remain steadfast on their land, clinging firmly to their rightful claim

In Khan Younis, the procession of bodies leaving Nasser Hospital was not merely a final farewell, but a muted cry from a city exhausted by loss. Families of the Palestinian journalists and their colleagues walked with heavy steps, carrying silent bodies that once conveyed the voices and pain of the people—only for that voice to be buried alongside its owners beneath soil still wet with tears.

Pale faces needed no words. Every glance told a story of accumulated oppression and pain that went beyond the moment. Mothers bid farewell to sons who carried cameras instead of weapons, while fathers stood helpless before the reality that truth itself had become a target, and that those who carried it paid for it with their lives.

The entire Strip seemed to sigh in anguish for its sons. The streets of Khan Younis, once accustomed to noise, lowered their voices in reverence for death, as the sounds of weeping blended with a heavy silence enveloping the place. Here, grief is not measured by the number of the dead alone, but by the many dreams cut short halfway down the road.

Colleagues understood that the loss was not confined to the families of the fallen, but extended to every Palestinian waiting for an image or a piece of news to feel still seen by the world. With their departure, the gap of fear widened, and the sorrow deepened over a profession now shadowed by death, and over a message written in blood before ink.

And in Gaza, where the ceasefire is fragile and life even more so, the question is renewed with every funeral: how much oppression can this place endure? The Strip bids farewell to its sons one after another, yet despite the brokenness, it continues to cling to the memory of those who have gone—as if it were the last thing it possesses in the face of an unending pain.