My heart is heavy with sorrow and my soul is torn seeing the massacres taking place against members of my community – the Druze community – in Syria. The pain has crossed every border, especially after the horrific crime on July 11, 2025, which took the innocent and pure soul of 11-year-old Yaman Ma’an from his mother Sama Sha’ar’s embrace – a child full of life and love. Yaman was sitting at home with his mother Sama and his grandmother when armed men broke into their house and cruelly shot his small head – his head was separated from his body. An image hard to digest, hard even to imagine. What made the pain unbearable was the mother’s actions, who carried her son’s headless body and tried to save him… out of hopeless despair. The blood is still on the walls; the grandmother and brother were forced to leave the house because they could not bear the difficult memories. The mother today is in a devastated psychological state. She suddenly screams and then whispers in a broken voice: “I’m going to bring Yaman’s head… he’s still alive.” She still carries in her body fragments from the terrible incident, and her physical and psychological wounds continue to bleed.
This tragedy did not remain distant – it penetrated into my own home, to my children and husband, to the tears and the fear, to nights filled with worry for those who are there, for the unbearable suffering they are living through. We are immersed in deep mourning and thoughts that never let go.
In an era when innocent souls are taken without cause, and the blood of peaceful people is spilled on their doorsteps, we write in the ink of pain about an unforgettable tragedy… about the martyr Mohanad Salim Al-Sha’ar, who sat innocently in front of his house , seeking a little peace, without weapons and without threat – but the arms of hatred broke the silence, dragged him cruelly into his house, and murdered him before the eyes of his paralyzed mother and his little daughters, whose lives will forever be haunted by this image of horror.
And the pain did not stop there – the next difficult news was about the death of Fayez Al-Sha’ar, under harsh and painful conditions, as if this family was destined to pay a heavy price with the lives of its sons.
And the disaster only grows. Hundreds of wounded and injured, each carrying in his or her body a story of pain – bullets, shrapnel, and ongoing anxiety – alongside entire families collapsing between fear and hope, waiting by the bedside of the wounded or for news of life.
What is happening here is not just numbers in the news – but souls with faces, names, stories, and memories. Mothers burying their sons, children calling for their fathers – with no answer; women are losing their providers and their embrace; eyes cannot close at night from so much grief.
This is not a private tragedy – this is a human catastrophe, a moral stain on anyone who sees and remains silent, on anyone who knows and remains silent. To anyone who still has a trace of conscience left – do not forget Yaman and Mohanad, do not forget Fayez, do not forget the wounded and those bleeding in silence. They are not victims of fate – but victims of injustice that must be exposed, and of aggression that must be stopped.
May the memory of the martyrs be blessed; we wish complete healing for the wounded, and strength for every mother and father, every boy and girl who lost their entire world in a single moment.
This blood will not be forgotten or washed away – until justice is achieved.
Written by Wafaa Batheesh Shaer, activist with Women Wage Peace and member of Forum 1325, from the Druze village of Mas’ada in the Golan Heights
