Letter of a baby killed by the silence of the world

Bye Mum,

Shalom Dad,

I have seen you only for a few instants but my time has arrived.

I love you so much, I cannot believe I will never see you again.

I was  ready to come to the world in two months, I was already imagining how I would taste my mother’s milk, I was wondering how it feels to open your eyes and find out what is around.

But none of these things will never happen in my life.

I felt the shootings going through the womb, I heard the screams of fear and terror through the amniotic liquid and I understood that something was wrong.

My hearbeat that until that moment was beating at a perfect rythm, started slowing down.

I am not able to explain why everything happened, why a man, whom I have never seen before, wanted to shoot my mum and me.

I heard people saying that all this happened because we were waiting for the bus on a disputed piece of land, that the cause that moves these murderous hands lies in the land itself.

Eighty years ago when this land was only sand, babies, infants and children who did not have time to learn how to talk and walk, were brought to the slaughter house with the same charge: Jude.

Bye grandma and grandpa,

it was an honor to be part of a family that teaches to love while our enemies go on inciting to kill.

Though I was born on the seventh month of pregnancy, though I could breath only for a few days, I can affirm with no doubts that the content of Universal Declaration of Human Rights about the right for life, freedom and safety, is not universally true.

It is not true that every child has the right to a home, a mother and father.

It’s a lie. The world does not try hard to protect every child from cruelty as the U.N Declaration on Youth Rights states.

People who were raised in hate and intolerance made me leave this world with a name, Amiad Yisrael, a name that was never called but only engraved on my gravestone.

The book of my life was closed by democratic societies and mass media that consider the death of a Jew on his land less worthy of the death of other men.

 

My dear love,

let me kiss for the last time the shroud that wraps your tiny life.

Let me say goodbye to your tiny hand and foot, to you heart that bumped inside my body for the last seven months.

Ask in Heaven why all this is happening to us. And please don’t move until you don’t get an answer.

You have been a child for a few instants before the hate of men transformed you in an angel.

Send me a kiss, my little love, a big kiss like that one I would have asked you in a few months if the incitement to violence, if the education to death, did not tear your soul away from me and from this world.

Gheula Canarutto NemniSchermata 2018-12-13 alle 12.39.29

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