The Wounded Al-Zahraa

It was not a normal day this morning … I woke up very active as today I will go to  share Al-Wa’er people their joy because  they returned to their homes again.

I started early, while driving to Al-Wa’er district a lot of questions come to my mind. I have already planned to make a number of meetings and interviews with the people there young and old  and even with the returnees ,those who experienced going out with the gunmen and later  they returned to settle in their neighborhood.

My phone rang suddenly. It was my friend who was waiting to accompany me on my visit to Al-Wa’er, I answered with joy I am on the way but the uproar of her voice stopped the sounds around and inside me … What happened? Why are you crying? I asked with fear.

“It is a new explosion, the scattered pieces fill the place …  Come here to us in our stricken neighborhood, Where there is no place except for tears and blood that spreads every where.

The new bombing has  killed all the joy and hope that we felt yesterday when Homs was declared free from armed groups  and terrorism.

They have not surrendered yet … their level of criminality and their ideology which is saturated with terrorism has not diminished.

They came back to say that if the gunmen had gone, we are here. We have come to bring you back to the days of fear and terror,” She said bitterly.

I changed my way heading to the afflicted Zahra neighborhood …

Many ambulances were transporting the wounded as a result of the bombing in the area, blood scattered in the place .

I asked ..what happened? An old man wiping his tears told me … Someone sold himself to the devil. He came to us passing from here on the remains of these people to his promised paradise.

I stood  near the wall of the Electricity station building where the explosion occurred watching  all those who are involved in the rescue of the wounded, searching for the injured, and removing the rubble …Everything here was moving with a strange mechanism.

I asked how could they do all this work? I cannot move from my place …. She wiped her tear and said: ” We used to get pain as our companion and the wounds and destruction as the reality  that we live in. We know that all this will go away and end but we all believe that the time has not come yet and that our destiny is to offer sacrifices.

Did not I say that we are doomed to hope and that all betrayals and attacks will not kill our resolve and diminish our faith in our homeland?

Raindrops that washed the earth after the exodus of the devils from the good land did not benefit to wash the hearts and bring the consciousness back to the minds of the lost.

As the rain had washed the graves of the martyrs, it had also washed the wounds.. I could not stay long in the city and in that afflicted neighborhood … The lean years could not teach me that death and wounds  is the fate of my family and the people of my city.

The tragedy must end and we should return as we were loyal to the homeland. Syria is for all of us and those hatreds must be buried away in the land from which they came.

My country and my city are holy . We will not accept to be  contaminated with the dust of death and hatred.

I left the place praying that the rain which is falling now will be the end of the lean years.

Amal Farhat- From Homs to The Syria Times