✍️ By Abdullah Al-Amirah

In Sharm El-Sheikh… peace is played on the strings of microphones.
In Gaza… peace is heard through the rhythm of ruins.

The ornate halls open to welcome delegations,
while the cemeteries open to welcome children.
Leaders speak of “the day after,” as if tomorrow were already born —
but in Gaza, tomorrow is still searching for a home, a school, a breath.

Between Two Clamors

The first clamor — in Sharm El-Sheikh — is the sound of diplomacy:
diplomatic words, polished smiles, cameras capturing the moment of “peace.”
The second — in Gaza — is the sound of pain:
it needs no microphone, for its voice rises from beneath the rubble.

Everyone speaks in the name of “humanity,”
but humanity itself wasn’t invited to the summit.
Who attended?
Some nations seeking a role, others seeking remembrance,
and others seeking investment in the age of post-war rebuilding.

Is this truly a peace conference — or merely a post-war one?

Did the world gather to end the Gaza war, or to frame its ending — or something else?
And who truly owns the definition of peace?
Is it military silence… or human justice?
And where is Israel in this scene? Absent from the hall,
but present in every line — and every outcome.

Who Represents the Palestinians?

Do Hamas represent them — or does the blood?
Are they represented by the one who raises a flag,
or the one who lost a flag above his child’s grave?
A peace signed in the name of “humanity,”
but without the victim’s presence —
an incomplete peace, yet a perfectly staged performance.

Clamor Without Music

Today, in Sharm El-Sheikh, the clamor is organized —
noise dressed in suits and ties.
But in Gaza, the clamor has no melody —
crying that becomes an anthem, blood that becomes a statement.

It is a dual clamor:
the first to declare a “political victory,”
and the second to remind the world that silence is a crime.

A Flash

Perhaps the “Clamor of Peace” is but an echo of a silence never understood.
The world, it seems, negotiates over voices — not values.
As for Gaza, it does not speak much —
it writes in its own language: the language of survival.

Gaza was emptied and destroyed,
as if prepared to become a stage for another kind of noise —
one titled “reconstruction” and funded by forgetfulness.

No matter — if it is to become better,
for its people, and for those who invest in it.

Epilogue

We’ve heard the grinding, yet we’ve seen no flour.
When will we? Or has the mill turned without grain or hope?
Perhaps the sound of the mill no longer grinds wheat… but minds.

Will Hamas truly end?
Or has its mission not yet been fulfilled — still managed behind a long curtain?
Will it vanish — and with it, those who created it?
Or has terrorism itself become a product,
marketed under bright names: Arabism… and Islam?

These are not questions seeking answers — but awareness.
Perhaps the clamor itself is nothing but the dust of missing flour,
and perhaps truth is being ground between the millstones —
between the noise of “peace”… and the silence of “humanity.”

🎭 When the voice of truth rises above the noise.

✈️ Trump departs, leaving behind the clamor — with no flour in sight.

Let us remember this day:
October 13, 2025 —
from Ben Gurion to Sharm El-Sheikh,
the day the plane moved… but the questions stayed in the air.