Words have been slipping through my breath, and writing has been drying on ink. Ideologies rooted in faith have, at times, carried more justice than those who sit comfortably dissecting their flaws. Yet even within those who fought and sacrificed, there were moments where the clarity of purpose was blurred by the ego of power.

The strength that lived in the hearts of those who fought who gave their lives regardless of belief gave us time. Time to reach out, to build, to debate to unite. We did not. Many choose to fixate on what they call “wrong ideologies,” finding ego and a sense of power in condemning them, a power they would likely wield even more violently in the name of their own “correct” ideologies. and still, they remain silent in the face of the death of thousands of children, of women, paramedics, journalists reducing them to “collateral damage,” rather than confronting the greater violence of occupation, imperialism, and the erasure of both faith and nation.

Why, then, are we surprised when people turn toward spiritual ideologies especially when religious ideologies themselves have been distorted, hiding behind power rather than truth? When they seek refuge in the name of God? And has the name of God ever been singular? Or does it seem to change from the blood of one child to another?

What we are witnessing is the ultimate failure of a human and national awakening, and this failure is nothing but a continuous delay to our unified truth. And who pays the price along the way? The people of the land. Allow me the land of Jabal Amel has always known who belongs to it. They find their way back, always. I know it. I believe it. I have seen it.
They are born with something unshakable a quiet, rooted knowing. Leaders by nature, not by claim, they do not lose their path, not in their beauty, not in their mistakes, not in their victories,
not even in their failures. Because the land remembers them and they remember who they are.