Aliaa Nasser Sabri Abu Taqiyah

Every person has a portion of their name: "Aliaa is in the highest place." Our childhood on the occupied land is assassinated every day, assassinated in broad daylight before the eyes of the entire world. The smiles of the little ones are crushed, and their tender bodies are torn apart before they can grow up peacefully like others. Their lives are forcibly taken from them, despite how they cling to them. She was her parents' only child, their first joy and the apple of their eye. They wanted for her eminence and elevation, so they named her "Aliaa." She was the queen in their small kingdom. They watched her grow, minute by minute, dreamed big dreams for her, and wrapped her in love, hope, and prayer. She was two and a half years old, a flower plucked by the brutal occupation. Two and a half years that a blind missile decided was enough of her life. It snatched her in the blink of an eye from between her parents, and chose her to rise to the sky, where "Aliaa" ought to be. Her mother says: "This is my queen, my comfort, and my happiness, the core of my heart, my daughter 'Aliaa,' the serene, the gentle one. My little one slept and is still sleeping, forever. She left me with the pain in my heart and the pain of my injuries. May God curse the occupier a million times. Oh God, patience, patience, and more patience, and solace for my heart and my state. Oh God, I am content with Your will, so please be content with me, O Most Merciful in this world and the next." In Gaza of Glory, the land that sprouts childhood and stalks of wheat, specifically in the al-Salam neighborhood in the city of Rafah, Aliaa ascended to heaven on February 3, 2024, after her family's home was bombed. She left her parents suffering the pain of their physical injuries and the pain of her loss in their hearts, after the occupation deprived them of gathering the threads of light from their "Aliaa."