When the Sky Trembled
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This is part two, if you have missed part one click here to read, Do You What Happens Every 45 Minutes?
Refugee Camp, Gaza
Maryam pours tea into a chipped glass, her fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion and grief. Across from her, little Yusra, tear-streaked but trying to be brave, holds a piece of za’atar flatbread in her tiny hands. The child chews in silence, her eyes darting between Maryam and the sky through the canvas flap of the tent.
She had once been her mother’s shadow. That mother, Sumayya, gone now, buried three days ago beneath what used to be a neighborhood. They found her body, but not her husband’s. It was Maryam who had helped pull Sumayya from the rubble, whispering "La ilaha illa Allah" as she died.
Since then, Yusra had barely spoken. She followed Maryam everywhere.
Maryam didn’t mind. In truth, she liked sharing the tent with her. Yusra’s small presence kept the loneliness at bay, softened the silence of grief that so often echoed louder than any explosion. It reminded Maryam of her own children, of Amina and Sami, who were not with her anymore.
Maryam reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Yusra’s face. "Eat, habibti. It’s still warm."
Outside, smoke coiled in lazy spirals from the small wood fire. A battered pot simmered over it. Maryam’s knees ached from crouching beside it, but she stayed. The act of cooking, even like this, on scorched earth with scraps, was a form of worship. Feeding the orphaned child of her friend was a mercy. It gave her a reason to stay upright.
Then it happened.
A sudden shift in the air. The sound was unmistakable now to every soul in Gaza: the hum of a drone, too close, too low.
Maryam’s spine went rigid. Slowly, she places the glass down.
"Yusra?", Maryam’s voice trembles
The child looks up. Her eyes, so wide, so impossibly hopeful despite everything, meets Maryam’s.
The wind shifts. The fire flickers. A shadow passes over the tent.
And then…
Silicon Valley Tech Office
Just hours earlier…
In an open-plan office filled with glass walls and standing desks, five developers sat in front of glowing screens. The room was quiet but for the hum of machines and soft clicking of keyboards. A wall-mounted screen showed a real-time AI dashboard.
Jason leaned back in his chair. "Did anyone see that report about AI models being used in Gaza?"
Meera froze mid-type. She looked up, her brows knitted in concern.
"Yeah, it’s... disturbing," she said. Her voice was low. "Some of the models we helped train might have ended up in those systems."
Across from her, Ali shifted uncomfortably. His eyes dropped to his desk. "We signed ethics agreements," he muttered.
David snorted. "Come on. Do you really think those mean anything once the military contracts start flowing?"
Silence. Screens flickered.
One engineer looked up, shrugged, and put his headphones back in. His expression was unreadable.
A clip appeared on someone’s tab: dust clouds in Gaza, a child’s silhouette.
“AI-assisted strike,” someone muttered. “They say they neutralized a high‑value target.”
Faces shifted. Another engineer, her eyes wide, stared at the screen. A crease of guilt lay between her brows.
Across the room, Mark laughed. “Not our call—it’s just tech.” He leaned back, unbothered.
A voice cracked: “We wrote the algorithm. We cleaned the data. We made it. Someone died because of code I signed off on.”
Silence settled. A slide on the wall read: “Build ethically.”
Was this what they had signed up for?
IDF Military Operations Room
The command center buzzed. Maps projected on the wall, coordinates streamed in real time.
Captain Eitan adjusted his headset. "Command, we have intel on a Hamas operative hiding in Rafah."
Lieutenant Ronen, younger and more hesitant, looked up from his terminal. "Are we sure? It’s a camp. Mostly women and children."
Colonel Levi stepped in. "They use civilians as shields. One target justifies the strike."
"With respect, sir," Ronen said, "there’s no confirmed ID on the target."
"We do not wait for perfect certainty," Levi replied. "We neutralize threats. That is our mandate."
The room stilled. Ronen stared at the screen. A drone camera showed a small tent, a woman crouching beside a fire, a child beside her.
"Firing solution locked," Eitan said.
Levi nodded. "Execute."
Back in the Refugee Camp
A searing flash of light.
A scream ripped the air.
Dust swallowed everything.
When the silence came, it was thick and wrong.
Maryam lay on her side. Her ears rang. Her chest was heavy.
She turned.
Her arm cradled Yusra’s limp body.
There was no breath in her. Only the stillness of limbs too small to carry this kind of death.
Maryam pressed her forehead to the child’s.
She could not scream. The grief was too deep. Her voice had drowned.
Her lips trembled. She recited from the Qur’an:
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un."
Surely we belong to Allah, and to Him we shall return.
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the dust, as she whispered the words of Sayyidna Zakariyya (علیہ السلام),
“My Lord! Surely my bones have become brittle, and grey hair has spread across my head, but I have never been disappointed in my prayer to You, my Lord!”
Ya Allah.
Do not forget us.
The sky split.
And Maryam’s tent was no more.
Yet from the rubble, from blood and dust and broken hearts, a prayer rose.
Ya Allah, send your justice to this earth. Let no more mothers bury their children. Let the hearts of tyrants tremble. Let the Ummah rise in truth.
What You Can Do:
Donate to trusted Muslim charities on the ground.
Help Keep Our Charity Kitchen Running in Gaza
I’m personally supporting this urgent appeal and urging you to do the same.
Shamaila’s story and her tireless work in Gaza moved me deeply. This isn’t just about feeding people. It is about preserving dignity, humanity, and hope in a place where all three are under constant attack.
If you’ve ever wondered how to help in a way that truly matters, this is your moment. Please donate whatever you can. Let us not turn away from those who need us most.
For more details and how to donate click here
Also remember this Eid to support Muslims in Gaza, the West Bank, Sudan, Kashmir, Yemen, East Turkestan, Syria, Somalia, and beyond.
Join the boycott movement. Do not let you r money fund oppression. For more information on the BDS Movement and boycott on Microsoft visit: BDS MOVEMENT MICROSOFT
Watch the powerful Yaqeen Institute interview with the Muslim woman who protested inside Microsoft. Click Here
Eid Mubarak
Eid is three days long. Let us give, grieve, and grow in our love for the oppressed. Their Eid will not have sweets or laughter without the cloud of loss and uncertainty hovering over them.
Let them have our duas and our actions.
Watch Eid Diaries for Eid in Gaza.
If you have been moved by this or the previous newsletter, re-stack, forward, and share with 5 people. Your support means the world to me.
Much love and with a broken heart,
Nour Cauveren