We have no Escape
Saher Alghorra
The attacks on Gaza after October 7th, 2023, are unprecedented. The population, trapped inside the strip, is captive, with nowhere to flee.
Over the past year, Palestinian civilians—families—have been displaced from north to south, then back again, enduring relentless shelling, airstrikes, ground invasions, famine, disease, and the loss of loved ones. They have witnessed their homes and cities flattened.
During a harsh, rainy winter, they lived in leaking tents, and in the oppressive heat of summer, they suffocated with no shade while enduring constant deprivation of electricity, water, and food. For the past 12 months, day and night, families have lived under the incessant, overwhelming roar of drones and airplanes, fearing every second that they could be the next to be hit. Hospitals have been destroyed one after another. Journalists, striving to report on these massacres, have been targeted and killed.
All of this while the world watches the Palestinian suffering—helplessly, or perhaps voyeuristically.
The title of this photographic series, "We Have No Escape" is taken from a line in Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish’s poem "The Cypress Broke" (انكسرت الغصون), published in 1986. The poem reflects on loss, exile, and the endless suffering of the Palestinian people. Four decades later, Darwish's words tragically remain as relevant as ever.
As a photojournalist still reporting from Gaza to this day, I have and will continue to document and show the world the ordeal, resilience, and strength of Palestinian families who have no means of escape—until, hopefully, this ends.
