I created a spoken word song inspired by this LinkedIn post by Miral Askar, who lives in Cairo, Egypt . Mohammed Abu Taha, the man who took the video Miral writes about, was shot by an IOF sniper while on his way to get food. (Let that sink in for a moment.) He died while recording this video. Mohammed’s surviving relatives found the phone and shared the video with the world.

Say Mohammed’s name, listen to his final words, weep, get angry, and ACT.

May he rest in peace. .الله يرحمه

MAA

The videos coming out of Gaza this week…

I don’t even know how to describe them anymore.

Children, nothing but skin and bones.

Elderly people collapsing in the middle of the street.

Mothers on their knees, scraping spilled beans off the floor—desperate for anything to feed their families.

People who haven’t eaten in days. Days.

And then… there’s this.

A video. Just a little over a minute. That’s all it took to destroy me.

A young man—Mohammed Abu Taha. His voice trembling, soaked in blood, whispering through pain: “O Lord, take me while You are pleased with me.”

And then… the Shahada*.

His final words.

Mohammed had already lost his entire family months ago.

And today—he joined them.

This is the last thing he ever recorded on his phone.

A video his surviving relatives found after his death, and shared with the world.

You see him lying on the ground, bleeding.

Alone. His breaths getting weaker.

His voice getting softer.

Still remembering God as his soul leaves his body.

He was killed while trying to reach food. Food!

Shot by a sniper at one of the so-called “aid points.”

I can’t believe this world anymore.

They are documenting their genocide with their last remaining strength—and still, people ask whether this counts as genocide?

I am heartbroken.

I am furious.

I want to shout.

I want to scream.

I want to shake this world by its shoulders and ask: What is this silence? This uselessness? This helplessness?

I can’t take it anymore.

And then—I think of them.

The ones who are still there. Starving. Mourning. Fighting. Surviving.

And I realize something:

They are heroes.

The bravest people on earth.

They are standing their ground with nothing but dust in their lungs and God in their hearts.

And the Lord knows—so will I.

Shahada: The Shahada, also known as Shahadah, is the Islamic declaration of faith. It is a fundamental part of the Islamic faith and is one of the Five Pillars of Islam. The Shahada is a statement that declares belief in the oneness of God (Allah) and the acceptance of Muhammad as God’s final prophet. The Shahada is recited as: “Ashhadu an la ilaha illa-llah, wa ashhadu anna Muhammadan rasul-ullah.” This translates to: “I bear witness that there is no god but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah”. The Shahada is more than just words; it’s a commitment to believe in and live by the principles of Islam. It is recited during various significant moments in a Muslim’s life, including at birth, during prayer, and upon conversion to Islam. (Source: AI Overview)

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Version 4

Here’s what A. Omer Karamollaoglu, wrote about Miral on LinkedIn: Allow me to (re)introduce a remarkable voice: Miral Askar. I rarely call someone an ‘influencer,’ but Miral truly deserves that title – her posts influence hearts and minds. I became familiar with her through her LinkedIn content, but I haven’t met her in person. We share 2,800 connections, yet many of you might not be following her. With 33,000+ followers, she doesn’t need my endorsement, but I’m offering one out of respect and admiration. By day, Miral is a product owner in tech; by passion, she’s a tireless human rights advocate. In her own words, she’s ‘𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯’– bridging tech with advocacy. She uses her platform for humanitarian causes, especially for Palestine. Her content is insightful, well-researched, and honest. Miral shines a light on issues too often ignored – from the suffering of civilians in Gaza to historical figures who fought for freedom. Every post offers rich context and compassion. Miral’s voice has real impact. Her LinkedIn posts attract thousands of reactions and comments, sparking meaningful dialogue. For example, she has called out social media’s suppression of humanitarian content – labeling it ‘𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺’ and warning that ‘𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦-𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯’. Such moral clarity rallies people to pay attention. She’s achieved all this despite relentless ‘shadow banning’ of content about Palestine on LinkedIn. Even when algorithms try to bury her posts, she persists – she has thousands of posts. And the engagement she earns shows that truth finds a way. Her perseverance and dedication are deeply inspiring and deserve recognition. Please follow and support advocates like Miral who use their platforms for good. Online engagement is one of the few tools we have to aid those under oppression, but it can make a real difference—let’s make it count.