حماس

@hamas alahnomi

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In Yemen’s nights, the stars forget to shine, Dust swallows dreams like an unfinished line. Homes fall silent where warm laughter once stayed, And childhood fades in the ashes of airstrikes’ shade. The wind carries cries across a torn, dry land, Mothers hold sorrow like dust in their hands. Bread becomes memory, water a desperate prayer, Life hangs on threads too fragile to bear. Mountains stand wounded, carved by years of grief, Their shadows whisper stories of stolen relief. Yet in the ruins, a trembling voice remains clear: “We have endured fire, hunger, loss, and fear… But Yemen will rise—though not now, not near.”