War is not only the sound of shelling… but the silence of homes once filled with laughter.
It is not only the destruction of stone… but the breaking of hearts that were never made to bear all this pain.
In Lebanon, every corner carries a story of suffering.
A mother waiting for the return of a son who will never come back.
A child forced to grow up too soon.
And a home that has become a memory beneath the rubble.
What kind of war is this that steals sleep from the eyes of the innocent?
What kind of victory is built on the tears of mothers and the cries of children?
Lebanon is not a battlefield.
Lebanon is a homeland weary of counting: counting the martyrs, counting the heavy days, and counting the dreams that have been postponed.
And despite everything,
this country remains standing,
through the dignity of its people, the patience of its mothers, and the faith of its people that no matter how long the night lasts… a new dawn must rise.
May God have mercy on every martyr,
heal every wound,
and protect Lebanon from every pain yet to come.
