Whoever kills a soul…it is as if he had slain mankind entirely. And whoever saves one—it is as if he had saved all of mankind.
— Qur’an, Surah Al-Ma’idah (5:32)

I created a song to honor the memory of Amir, a Palestinian boy who walked 12 km (7.5 miles) to collect food at a “Gaza Humanitarian Foundation”* aid distribution point, only to be gunned down by the IOF. As Anthony Aguilar, a US Army veteran, has stated in numerous interviews, Amir approached him as the crowd began to depart the site. “He puts out his hand, so I beckoned him to come to me. I said, ‘Come here.’ And he reached out and he holds my hand, and he kisses my hand and he says, ‘Shukran (Thank you),'” Aguilar recalled. Their brief meeting was quickly interrupted as “‘pepper spray, tear gas, stun grenades and bullets’ were shot into the air and at the feet of Amir and the crowd of aid seekers still gathered,” Aguilar said. Amir was among those shot by Israeli forces.

*The Israeli-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation’s (GHF) food distribution is “orchestrated killing and dehumanization,” according to the French medical charity Doctors Without Borders (MSF). GHF’s name is Orwellian. “War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength”

(Verse 1)
Barefoot and tattered, across the dust you came,
Twelve long kilometers, fueled by hunger and the flame
Of hope that whispered through each parched, weary step—
You carried nothing but courage in your chest.

A parcel small of rice and lentils in your hand,
You reached with trembling fingers toward that distant land.
You kissed the hand that gave, your voice so soft and true:
“Shukran,” you said—and then the world was hushed, and you—

(Chorus)
Amir, you walked for life, for bread, for home,
A child of Gaza, so weary and so alone.
Your whispered thanks, a memory of grace—
In darkest times, your heartbeat still echoes in this place.

(Verse 2)
No child should wander with such weight upon his heart,
No child should pay with breath for doing just a part
Of what was human: need, and dignity, and thanks—
A kindness lost amid those lines of tanks.

You spoke in that moment what the starving cannot say—
A soft “thank you” bleeding into dawn’s pale gray.
But the guns spoke louder—bullets in that space,
And Amir, you fell—too soon, too fast, no saving grace.

(Bridge)
Raise your voice, world, for the boy who walked so far,
Who bore our collective sorrow like a solemn star.
Let his name be echo, let his story rise—
For every child who walks, hungry in their eyes.

(Chorus – Soft)
Amir, you walked for life, for bread, for home,
A child of Gaza, so weary and so alone.
Your whispered thanks, a memory of grace—
In darkest times, your heartbeat still echoes in this place.

(Outro)
Amir, you walked through dust and pain, through hunger’s cruel embrace,
You walked—and even in that tragedy—your gentle words remain.
We carry them with tenderness, as long as we have voice—
Your “shukran” lingers still; let that echo be our choice.

Version 1

Version 2