Khaled Jabr

Where childhood is eternal. Childhood in Gaza has a taste mixed with the fires of war; on their wings are the clear marks of charcoal, smudging the soft features of their faces. So when a little one speaks of his dreams, he repeats, "a life without war." Khaled Jabr was his parents' only child, a gift from God after five years of waiting. He was born with his twin, Adam, who passed away a few hours after birth. You are free to imagine what it means for the occupation to steal your only son from you—the one who was lighthearted, beautiful, beloved, and smart among his friends. He was killed along with a number of his friends and relatives, all of them children, on October 18 of last year. Khaled, with his curly hair and the clear laugh on his cheeks, is eternal [khaled] in us just as he is eternal in his country. The bodies of children die, but their dreams remain, soaring across Palestine to preserve the face of the land. How can a child forget the "killer" of his dreams? How can a child who understood that heroism is not a superpower but a spiritual act forget the face of struggle and resistance in his country? How can a child named "Khaled" (eternal) forget the eternity of children's dreams in the sky of Palestine? Khaled realized that childhood in Gaza is a postponed act, that cartoon stories and the legends explaining names are postponed acts. So he knew with certainty that the meaning of his name would be reflected in his reality, his dreams, and his childhood—but not now. Rather, in Paradise, which opens its eternal arms to his thirsty childhood, God willing.