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The tragedy of Gaza brings with it conflicting emotions. Amid the devastation, death and desperation there is hope: hope for a victory for the resistance that should concern all those across our region who in 2011 took to the streets to demand our rights.

But first there is grief. There is stifling sadness as cameras take us through swathes of devastation that remind us of old black and white photos of Berlin after the Second World War.

The remains of martyrs are buried under this rubble. Human limbs are scattered everywhere. Here, a stiff severed arm is outstretched in one last cry for help. There, only a pair of men’s shoes show as their lifeless owner is stretchered away.

The camera takes us away from the devastation. It pans down hospital corridors and shocks us with images of dying children and grieving mothers. There are doctors with tired faces. At the back of the hospital, the morgue overflows. There are bodies on the floor, limbs in piles. Martyred faces may be at rest, but their loved ones are left in torment.

Outside again, and there is the Palestinian tragedy in one never-changing image:

There is rage on the faces of children in refugee camps and in the voices of their mothers

a young man carrying his old father on his back, fleeing the shelling in a flight that has been handed down through the generations. Refugees – again – they wander towards the unknown – again.

This is the history of the Palestinian struggle since the start of the never-ending Nakba. And it is the reason for this “bright anger”, of which Fairuz once sang, that surpasses all sorrow.

There is rage on the faces of children in refugee camps and in the voices of their mothers. It is wrath that sustains the legendary Palestinian perseverance.

"We are alright in Gaza,” said Nour al-Islam Abu-Hweishel, a child who addressed us an hour before she too was martyred. “It is you who we wonder about. Where are you? The sea is behind us, the enemy is in front. We are fighting and we have weapons and food. Our souls, wounds and shrouds protect us from your promises and words.

The quitters said the rockets of the resistance could not work. But those rockets are our future. The fate of the resistance in Gaza matters to us all. Its success would fortify all those who in 2011 loudly demanded their rights under the banner: “We the people.” It can secure the victory of the people over their oppressors.

Its failure will ensure that the dominance of the logic of despotism, oppression and contempt will continue for years to come.

The innocents of Gaza are paying the price. But resistance teaches us to choose between dying slowly in fear or confronting death for the sake of new life.

This article is an edited translation originally published by our Arabic edition.

Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Al Araby Al Jadeed, its editorial board or staff.