A campaign for the next generation
Young people in Palestine and Israel have no memory of a time without violence. By working for and with youth, we are focused on improving the lives of young people so that they may have a future of peace, freedom, and safety.
Every program has its own stories — and its own way to give.
Bereaved Palestinian Sister; PCFF Summer Camper
What gives me hope is our shared belief that tomorrow can be better, that the things I wish for are still possible.
My name is Alanoud, I am a 16 years old Palestinian from Beit Ummar. My brother, Mahmoud, was killed in 2008 by an Israeli soldier in our village. Mahmoud was 17, and he was filming the military demolishing the home of one of our neighbors. Although I never got the…
Peace Summer Camp
Alanoud Awad
Bereaved Palestinian Sister; PCFF Summer Camper
My name is Alanoud, I am a 16 years old Palestinian from Beit Ummar. My brother, Mahmoud, was killed in 2008 by an Israeli soldier in our village. Mahmoud was 17, and he was filming the military demolishing the home of one of our neighbors.
Although I never got the chance to know him, he holds a special place in my heart, a feeling that has grown stronger through the stories my family has shared about him.
I decided to join the Parents Circle because I wanted to convey the true picture of who we are to ‘the other side’, beyond the stereotypes that some people may hold about Palestinians. I also wanted to share my brother’s story with as many people as possible and raise awareness about what is happening in the West Bank.
At the PCFF summer camp, I learned the importance of listening to others, even if their opinions differ from mine. I also learned that not every Israeli is a soldier. It is important to get to know people through their experiences, and to give ourselves the opportunity to understand the other side without preconceived judgments. I also made many new friends at camp.
What gives me hope is our shared belief that tomorrow can be better, that the things I wish for are still possible, no matter how difficult the circumstances may seem.
Moved by Alanoud’s story? Help write the next one.
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Bereaved Israeli Nephew; PCFF Summer Camper
We have each other to carry us forward, that’s the point.
My name is Yishai, I am a 16 year old Israeli from Haifa. My aunt, Smadar, was killed in 1997 by a Palestinian suicide bomber in Jerusalem. She was 14 years old, and was waiting for the bus while listening to music on her walkman. I never had the chance…
Peace Summer Camp
Yishai Elhanan
Bereaved Israeli Nephew; PCFF Summer Camper
My name is Yishai, I am a 16 year old Israeli from Haifa. My aunt, Smadar, was killed in 1997 by a Palestinian suicide bomber in Jerusalem. She was 14 years old, and was waiting for the bus while listening to music on her walkman. I never had the chance to meet her, since she was killed before I was born.
My dad convinced me to try out the PCFF summer camp this year, and taking his advice was one of the best decisions I’ve made.
This summer I made many new friends at camp, both Israelis and Palestinians. It gives me hope to know that we not only can, but actively are getting along with each other.
But that is not the point of the camp or the Parents Circle. We are together in this land of madness, and Israelis and Palestinians alike bear the burden of hate. Our families have paid the highest price. We have each other to carry us forward, that’s the point.
Moved by Yishai’s story? Help write the next one.
Donate Now50 bereaved Israeli and Palestinian teenagers, one life changing summer.
A safe space to have the hard conversations, to just be kids, and to discover how much they have in common with their peers on ‘the other side’.
Bereaved Palestinian Sister; Young Ambassador for Peace
Every person has a story, pain, and hope, and we must see the human being first.
My name is Wuroud, from the village of Beit Ummar in Palestine. I lost my older brother, Ibrahim, in 2015. His loss was a painful experience that left a profound impact on my life. I joined the Young Ambassadors for Peace, as an important opportunity to meet people from the…
Young Ambassadors for Peace
Wuroud Awad
Bereaved Palestinian Sister; Young Ambassador for Peace
My name is Wuroud, from the village of Beit Ummar in Palestine. I lost my older brother, Ibrahim, in 2015. His loss was a painful experience that left a profound impact on my life.
I joined the Young Ambassadors for Peace, as an important opportunity to meet people from the other side, listening to their stories and personal experiences. This program helped me realize that every person has a story, pain, and hope, and that we must see the human being first, beyond prejudice and the barriers of race, religion, nationality, or identity.
The human dimension lies at the heart of the Parents Circle. It provides families who have lost loved ones with a safe space to express their grief and transforms painful experiences into opportunities for connection, empathy, and understanding.
Peace does not mean forgetting what happened to my family or ignoring the pain. Rather, it means having the courage to confront the past and work together to ensure that future generations do not experience the same tragedy. Peace is a shared responsibility that begins with each individual — with the ability to respect others and accept their differences, and with the determination to choose dialogue over violence.
Moved by Wuroud’s story? Help write the next one.
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Israeli YAP Participant
Military barriers separate us but the love still exists.
My name is Maayan, and I live in Tel Aviv. On October 7, 2023 I lost several childhood friends in one day. They were people I grew up with and connected with, people of light, joy, and dance. At first I was filled with anger and pain, then slowly I…
Young Ambassadors for Peace
Maayan Mula
Israeli YAP Participant
My name is Maayan, and I live in Tel Aviv. On October 7, 2023 I lost several childhood friends in one day. They were people I grew up with and connected with, people of light, joy, and dance.
At first I was filled with anger and pain, then slowly I began to investigate and try to understand what was happening and why. It dawned on me that we are in a never-ending cycle of bloodshed, an endless cycle of suffering and loss, and that we must look it in the eye and understand what our responsibility is in this situation.
That’s when I chose to join the Young Ambassadors for Peace program. Getting to know such amazing people who also suffered loss, but chose to channel their energy into peace, was an empowering experience. It gave me hope to look at ‘the other side’ in the eyes and feel love, to feel compassion and acceptance, to call them my friends and miss them, because military barriers separate us but the love still exists.
Despite the initial fear of ‘the other’, the language barrier, and physical borders between us – we are so similar. I am grateful that the Parents Circle gave me this opportunity to see and be seen.
Moved by Maayan’s story? Help write the next one.
Donate NowA yearlong program that trains young Palestinians and Israelis, 18-26 years old, to become peace leaders in their communities.
Together they travel, share their personal stories, learn public speaking, and design joint projects.
Bereaved Israeli Brother; PCFF Member
Hope comes from listening and piecing things together, one step at a time.
My name is Abie. My sister and brother-in-law, Deborah and Shlomi, were killed in their home on October 7, 2023. In their final act, they saved their 3 children by hiding them under the bed and under their body. At such a young age, my nieces and nephew have to…
Dialogue Meetings in Schools
Abie Troen
Bereaved Israeli Brother; PCFF Member
My name is Abie. My sister and brother-in-law, Deborah and Shlomi, were killed in their home on October 7, 2023. In their final act, they saved their 3 children by hiding them under the bed and under their body. At such a young age, my nieces and nephew have to face life without their parents and home after such an act of violence.
I joined the Parents Circle because I believe it is essential to speak out about the cost of violence and to actively seek ways to end it. There is no one simple solution, but meeting and working with bereaved Palestinian families, and standing against the forces that try to dehumanize us all felt like the most obvious thing to do.
This isn’t a radical act. To me, it comes from a very deep belief in people and is my way of trying to help create a better world.
Through the Parents Circle, I’ve met people on the Palestinian side who are doing the same: living through unimaginably hard conditions and still choosing to meet with me as an Israeli.
I take part in PCFF dialogue meetings, sharing my story with high school students. Grief doesn’t fit into a neat box, and neither does fear rooted in lived experience and real violence. Fear can be transformed into hatred, but it can also be channeled into love and a fight for life. It isn’t always easy, but we’re trying.
Over time, I’ve learned to listen better. It’s less about arriving with certainty and answers. Hope comes from listening and piecing things together, one step at a time.
Moved by Abie’s story? Help write the next one.
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Bereaved Palestinian Brother; PCFF Member
When we meet face to face about our experiences, losses, and fears, preconceived images begin to crack.
My name is Arab. My younger sister, Abir, was killed by an Israeli sniper in front of her school when she was 10 years old. I carry a personal experience of loss, one that cannot be separated from my Palestinian identity. Yet it also strengthens my belief in human connection…
Dialogue Meetings in Schools
Arab Aramin
Bereaved Palestinian Brother; PCFF Member
My name is Arab. My younger sister, Abir, was killed by an Israeli sniper in front of her school when she was 10 years old. I carry a personal experience of loss, one that cannot be separated from my Palestinian identity. Yet it also strengthens my belief in human connection and in the conviction that, no matter how deep the pain, it should not mark the end of the road.
Since October 7, I have taken part in Dialogue Meetings bringing Palestinians and Israelis together. None of these meetings began easily. Feelings of pain, anger, fear, and mistrust were present, and at some meetings, some participants chose to leave. Nevertheless, we ended each meeting with a sense of hope and a belief that dialogue remains possible and necessary.
Today, I am unfortunately the only Palestinian able to participate in Dialogue Meetings in Israel, thanks to my Jerusalem ID, which allows me greater freedom of movement. This reality places a great responsibility on my shoulders and strengthens my determination to continue what we have started and work toward a better future.
My experience in these meetings has taught me that there are still people holding onto humanity, willing to listen, trying to understand. Many people know little about us Palestinians beyond what they hear or the narratives they are exposed to about us. But when we meet face to face about our experiences, losses, and fears, preconceived images begin to crack, creating space for people to see one another as they truly are, beyond prejudice.
We must continue what we have begun and preserve the spaces that allow us to meet, listen, and engage in dialogue, even when doing so seems impossible. Hope does not mean ignoring reality or minimizing the extent of suffering. Rather, it means refusing to let pain deprive us of our ability to imagine a better future and work toward it.
Moved by Arab’s story? Help write the next one.
Donate NowParents Circle members share their stories of loss and reconciliation in Israeli high schools.
For many students, it is their first and only opportunity to meet a Palestinian before they join the army.
Bereaved Palestinian Husband; PCFF Community Manager
I love seeing the faces of the children light up when they see us, Israelis and Palestinians coming together to bring them school supplies.
My name is Yakoub. My wife, Aisha, was killed eight years ago by a Jewish settler who threw a rock at our car. Today I serve as the Palestinian Community Manager at the PCFF, where I am responsible for organizing and managing solidarity programs and community activities. I am guided…
Back to School Solidarity Campaign
Yakoub Alrabi
Bereaved Palestinian Husband; PCFF Community Manager
My name is Yakoub. My wife, Aisha, was killed eight years ago by a Jewish settler who threw a rock at our car.
Today I serve as the Palestinian Community Manager at the PCFF, where I am responsible for organizing and managing solidarity programs and community activities. I am guided by our belief in the importance of humanitarian work and building community through solidarity.
For me, the most meaningful solidarity activity is the Back to School Campaign. We distribute school bags to children in Palestinian villages and Bedouin communities. We are able to support students, assist families, and provide them with essential school supplies. I love seeing the faces of the children light up when they see us, Israelis and Palestinians coming together to bring them school supplies.
We believe that community engagement and humanitarian work are fundamental in supporting Palestinians under occupation. I am so grateful to be a part of inspiring hope among children and future generations.
Moved by Yakoub’s story? Help write the next one.
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Bereaved Israeli Son; PCFF Community Manager
I realized that revenge would never bring back the chance to hug my mother, and that peace was the path to finding comfort.
My name is Avi. My mother, Tocheved, was killed in 2008 in an attack on the Jewish Chabad in India. I joined the Parents Circle because I realized that revenge would never bring back the chance to hug my mother, and that peace was the path to finding comfort. As…
Back to School Solidarity Campaign
Avi Orpaz
Bereaved Israeli Son; PCFF Community Manager
My name is Avi. My mother, Tocheved, was killed in 2008 in an attack on the Jewish Chabad in India.
I joined the Parents Circle because I realized that revenge would never bring back the chance to hug my mother, and that peace was the path to finding comfort.
As the Israeli Community Manager, I take part in PCFF’s solidarity activities, including the Back to School campaign, olive harvests, and visits to Palestinian communities in Masafer Yatta and the Jordan Valley. During these visits, we work alongside our Palestinian members, support local communities, and hold dialogue meetings that foster understanding, solidarity, and connection.
Through dialogue, listening, and shared action, we can build closeness and trust beyond politics and the preconceived beliefs deeply rooted in our societies. We are teaching children that a different way is possible.
Meeting Palestinians showed me that living together is not a distant dream. We are already living the day after, here and now.
Moved by Avi’s story? Help write the next one.
Donate NowPalestinian families continue to face violence, financial stress, and destruction under the occupation.
Bereaved Palestinians and Israelis work together to deliver school supplies to thousands of children across the West Bank.
The Day After has safety, dignity, and freedom for all. It is a day of partnership, reconciliation, and hope. Join us in creating the Day After.
Meeting Palestinians showed me that living together is not a distant dream. We are already living the day after, here and now.
Every gift is tax-deductible and goes to the families running this work.
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My name is Zeinat Awad, from Beit Ummar in the West Bank.
My children were born into a reality burdened by occupation, growing up witnessing daily scenes of oppression—killings, arrests, land confiscation, and the relentless expansion of settlements. My eldest son, Jaafar, was an ambitious young man, who believed that the future of his homeland could be built through education and went to law school so he could work for justice for his people. He also had a black belt in karate, and dreamed of representing Palestine in international tournaments.
One day on his way to university, he passed through a checkpoint—as usual—and his life changed forever. An Israeli soldier stopped his car, slapped him, and humiliated him in front of others. In that moment, Jaafar felt how easily a person’s dignity could be crushed, and that justice—the very thing he was studying—was absent under the occupation.
In deep frustration, a thought took shape in his mind—as he later admitted—to “teach the occupation a harsh lesson.” It was only a thought, nothing more. But before he acted upon it, the Israeli military arrested him and charged him not for an act, but for the thought itself.
Inside prison, Jaafar suffered from multiple illnesses and in early 2015, Jaafar was released in a frail and weak condition. We took him to a doctor who told me “Your son will not live for more than three months”.
We took Jaafar on an exhausting journey through hospitals for treatments—Al Ahli, Al Makassed, Al Mutlaa, and Al Mezan hospitals —where he finally passed away on April 10, 2015.
Today I am a member of the Parents Circle, and firmly believe that pain can be transformed into a force for justice and peace. My suffering continues, as my two younger sons are currently in administrative detention, with no reason given, and the youngest is only 16 years old.
Despite my loss and pain, I believe in life and in my son’s dream of education and justice. I now carry two voices within me: one of a mother who has lost her son, and one of a woman who believes that another future is possible.
On October 30-31, over 150 bereaved Palestinians and Israelis gathered by the Dead Sea for the Parents Circle Conference. After three years of small in-person gatherings and many zoom meetings—from Covid, wartime, and military restrictions—this large gathering of hope and action is nothing short of a miracle.
The gathering consisted of dialogue meetings, political imagination workshops, and community-building activities. For many new members, it was their first time to spend time with the “other side”.
Among the stories we heard were those of new PCFF members Liora, who shared how her son was killed on October 7, 2023 while she was trapped in the safe room of her home, and Hala, who told the story of her family — she lost 57 relatives in Gaza, including her sister and her sister’s children.
The two women stood side by side, united in pain and in their shared determination to build a future based on justice, security, equality, and an end to the occupation.
“I take from this conference the belief that there is a future. We live in a world that says peace is unrealistic, that mutual destruction is the only possible future. They tell me I’m naïve, disconnected from reality, but I believe we must stand firm and continue to make a difference.”
“I always say: from meeting comes understanding, from understanding comes action, and from action comes shared action. Together, we will walk toward a future ruled by peace. Working with the Parents Circle makes me feel that such a future is possible.”
Meeting together, Israelis and Palestinians build trust and solidarity across borders, and a nurturing community that helps catalyze the grief into action. These members won’t give up on peace in the face of injustice; we hope you will join them.
My name is Yuval Or, from Kibbutz Re’im.
On October 7, 2023, my son Dror and his wife Yonat were killed in their home, and three of my grandchildren were taken hostage to Gaza, along with Dror’s body. Our lives were destroyed.
After 50 days, my grandchildren returned home thanks to a hostage exchange deal. I don’t know what I would have done without them. I have been their primary caretaker since then, because they are orphaned.
Dror’s body is still held in Gaza. When we buried his wife we left an empty plot next to her, and we hope he will be returned so they can rest together.
After everything I’ve been through, I still believe in peace. War is not a solution. The peace I’m suggesting is not a romantic notion, it’s practical. To compromise, to manage to live together, to make agreements.
I don’t see how Palestinians will forgive Israel for what we did in Gaza, and I don’t see how Israel will forgive Hamas for what they did on October 7th. I wish something would spring up here, that something new would begin, and that slowly, peace would come from within, but we have so much hatred and pain and bereavement on both sides.
But, I believe that a Palestinian in Khan Younis wants the same thing as me: to raise our kids and to live a quiet life. And we must reconcile this horrible chapter in our history so that future generations – my grandchildren – don’t have to experience this again.
My name is Mohammad Al-Baw, I live in Halhul, a small village near Hebron. I joined the Parents Circle after my brother, Ferras, was killed in 2002 during the Second Intifada.
Two months ago, Israelis from a settlement nearby came to my family’s and my uncle’s family’s vineyards, about 16 acres of land passed down from my father, and pitched a tent. They planted an Israeli flag in the soil my father and grandfather cultivated. Israeli soldiers built a yellow gate blocking any Palestinian from entering. The soldiers guard the settlers. When I tried to walk onto my land, an officer told me, “You’re not allowed to enter.” His reason: “That’s the policy.” And just like that, a new policy was born.
On another day, when I filmed this scene, a soldier smashed my phone and said, “If you don’t leave now, I’ll kill you.” When I told him that if he is standing on my land, that is occupation, he replied, “There is no occupation.” He noticed the photos of my daughters in my wallet and asked if I worried about them. I told him: “Of course I am. You can take your children and go anywhere. I have only this place. We are like a fish. If you take it out of water, it will die.” His answer, “Okay, so die.”
These moments never make it into official records. They are not rare; they are happening across the West Bank. In the past, settlers might throw stones or burn a house. Today, they kill. There is no law here that protects us. The Israeli military protects them; Israeli police do not help us; Palestinian police cannot or do not protect us from settler violence.
Some people ask why I still work with Israelis. My answer is that if you believe in something, you don’t hesitate or give up. Even now, especially now, I meet with my Israeli colleagues. It is not easy.
My work with the Parents Circle has taken me into Israeli high schools and communities to tell my story in Hebrew, to speak about the Palestinian experience, and to insist that there is more to our lives than the black-and-white narratives of good and evil that we are taught.
I am Liat Atzili from Kibbutz Nir Oz.
My partner, Aviv and I built a life and a family in Nir Oz. We were an inseparable part of this little community, which fulfilled our aspirations and needs. Mine as an educator, and Aviv’s as a farmer and an artist.
On October 7th, our kibbutz was attacked, conquered, and destroyed by Hamas. A quarter of the residents were either killed or kidnapped, including me. The time I spent as a hostage in Gaza was of complete despair, unending fear for my friends and family, and long days. I was nervous that I wouldn’t survive.
After 54 days in captivity, I was returned home. The following day, my family and I were told that Aviv was killed on October 7th. Aviv had hundreds of friends, he traveled and created, and made the most of every opportunity; he truly loved life.In his final year, Aviv fulfilled many dreams, the greatest being to share his art publicly. While managing the kibbutz’s agricultural garage, he painted on tractor parts and scrap metal, blending his love for metals and the Negev fields into his creations. Our children looked up to him and I feel like I had the greatest privilege to share my life with him.
I always believed that war is not our destiny, and that any conflict, including ours, can be solved. This war has proven to me beyond a doubt that we cannot continue fighting, that we have no right to impose the continued suffering of war on future generations on either side. I am ready today, more than ever, to do everything in my power so that our children can live here in peace and security.
My name is Hala Al-Bukhari, and I live in Jerusalem.
My sister and her large family, including children and grandchildren live in Gaza. Despite the distance, I used to communicate with them daily, checking on their health via video call.
On the morning of October 7, 2023, my son told me to watch TV to see what was happening in southern Israel. From that day, fear has overwhelmed my heart.
Then came the morning of October 18, 2023, bringing the fateful news: My sister’s house was bombed, and she, her husband, her children, and grandchildren were in the house—33 innocent lives lost in this horrific massacre.
Two years later, and I’m not giving up.
With every word I write, I struggle to express the extent of my pain. Our hearts bleed with grief for those we have lost and continue to lose. Our sorrow is profound, and our souls yearn for the peace we all dream of.
Let us all live in peace and build a better future for our children. War brings only destruction and ruin to everyone involved, whether Palestinian or Israeli. It is always the innocent people who suffer the most.
I am Kholoud Houshiya and I live in the village of Al Yamun near Jenin. Originally my family is from Haifa. I wasn’t able to experience childhood due to the occupation, which forcibly displaced my family to Jenin under oppression and humiliation.
Later, I married and I gave birth to my first child, whom I named Mohammed. I raised him with all my love and effort.
Mohammed was a young man who loved life dearly, and he loved me even more. He was both my son and my friend, thanks to our close bond.
Mohamad was 23 years old. He worked in Israel and helped his father.
On January 2, 2024 Mohamed took a picture of the Israeli army tearing down my neighbor’s house. The army thought otherwise and they shot him. Just because he was Palestinian.
I always dreamed of seeing my son as a groom, just like any mother. But now, I am left with him buried in my garden. I had hoped to see him, his wife, and his children in my house, but now, every day, I look at his grave from the window in my room.
My message to the world is this: Enough. Enough killing, enough injustice, enough destruction, enough oppression. Enough violence on both sides.
It is not easy for a mother to recount the story of her son’s death—the pain is indescribable. I cannot bear the loss of another child. This is why we must raise the voice of the mothers for a better future for all children and young generations – Palestinians and Israelis.
I am Hala Al-Bukhari, living in Jerusalem.
My daughter, my sister and her large family, children and grandchildren live in Gaza. Despite the distance, before the war, I used to communicate with them daily, checking on their health via video call.
On the morning of October 7th, my son told me to watch TV to see what was happening in southern Israel. From that day, fear has overwhelmed my heart.
Then came the morning of October 18th, bringing the harsh news: My sister’s house was bombed, and she, her husband, her children, and grandchildren were in the house—33 innocent lives lost in this horrific massacre. Since then, my fear for my daughter has grown. I have pleaded with human rights organizations, seeking any means to get her out of the hell of war and the horror of the massacres. Eventually we succeeded to get my daughter out of Gaza.
With every word I write, I struggle to express the extent of my pain. Our hearts bleed with grief for those we have lost and continue to lose. Our sorrow is profound, and our souls yearn for the peace we all dream of.
Let us all live in peace and build a better future for our children. War brings only destruction and ruin to everyone involved, whether Palestinian or Israeli. It is always the innocent people who suffer the most.
I am Liat Atzili from Kibbutz Nir Oz.
My partner, Aviv and I built a life and a family in Nir Oz. We were an inseparable part of this little community, which fulfilled our aspirations and needs. Mine as an educator, and Aviv’s as a farmer and an artist.
On October 7th, our kibbutz was attacked, conquered, and destroyed by Hamas. A quarter of the residents were either killed or kidnapped, including me. The time I spent as a hostage in Gaza was of complete despair, unending fear for my friends and family, and long days. I was nervous that I wouldn’t survive.
After 54 days in captivity, I was returned home. The following day, my family and I were told that Aviv was killed on October 7th. Aviv had hundreds of friends, he traveled and created, and made the most of every opportunity; he truly loved life.In his final year, Aviv fulfilled many dreams, the greatest being to share his art publicly. While managing the kibbutz’s agricultural garage, he painted on tractor parts and scrap metal, blending his love for metals and the Negev fields into his creations. Our children looked up to him and I feel like I had the greatest privilege to share my life with him.
I always believed that war is not our destiny, and that any conflict, including ours, can be solved. This war has proven to me beyond a doubt that we cannot continue fighting, that we have no right to impose the continued suffering of war on future generations on either side. I am ready today, more than ever, to do everything in my power so that our children can live here in peace and security.
I am Mazen from Bethlehem. Many of my family members live in Beit Lahiya, Gaza. They lived in a beautiful house and went on about their lives, despite the siege.
It all stopped on October 10, 2024, when, my uncle, his three sons, and his son-in-law were outside near the house. Israeli aircraft targeted them with bombardment and gunfire. My aunt managed to bring their bodies into the house. With trembling hands, she was forced to gather what remained of them, unable for over a week to lay her husband and three sons to rest.
I cannot believe that so many of my family are dead, and that I cannot go there to help them and cry with them.
The depth of pain in Gaza is beyond description and cannot be fathomed by the human mind. How much longer will this hatred on both sides continue? How much longer will we endure this nightmare? All the Palestinian people desire is a dignified life free from occupation—a fundamental right, just like that of any other people in the world.
The suffering will not cease until we collectively seek pathways to peace and understanding. Revenge will not forge a shared future; we must strive to find common ground and solidarity. Let us unite for a brighter future for the generations to come, and let us raise our voices for peace, so that together we may end this cycle of violence and finally live in safety and harmony.