If Syria were to write an open letter to the world, it would go somewhat like this.
The women, children and men of my family appear on television quite often but not the right reasons; fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons are killed mercilessly.
The world sees my children suffer and people shed a tear or two, maybe even post hash tags in support and prayer but a day later a celebrity’s relationship status is the subject of their hash tag.
48 died in the recent suicide bombing carried out by Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), they are my children too but
They have decided to wrong their own home; the world thus, turns it back on our issue thinking of it as something routine. This is not a cry for help, this is a wakeup call to all those who see us suffer and hear of our plight and yet haven’t uttered a word.
Our lives here have become nothing but subjects of news flashes all over the world; does the UN carry out discussions in order to improve our situation? Yes, but we constitute one short sentence under one clause, just another country in the list of ‘should-saves.
So world, please open your eyes to see beyond our tears, see our happiness that has been destroyed; we were regular people with regular lives and families. No, we do not train everyday to attack your country, in fact our children learn about your leaders in history and politics and look up to you.
Brothers and sisters see and also speak. See that once you scroll beyond news about terrorist attacks in Syria, our pain does not pause; speak about what you would like to do to help us, we know you are kind-hearted and want to but you brush it aside because you think that there are people who are already discussing measures to be taken for our relief but that is not true, my friends.
Open your eyes and speak for what you see.
We are just statistics, but our emotions and our tears don’t seep through your screen. Through this letter I would like to tell you that an entire country is sinking in terrorism for no fault of its own, while you scroll past blood, tears and screaming; we live them.
(Home to millions who yearn for a voice)