144 Stories - A Mother's Thoughts

Friday, December 04, 2015 Heba Moeen 5 Comments

It's December already,
knowing that my time froze a year back;
I am still not ready ...
to let go of that backpack!

I wake up to drag him out of bed,
and brush his disheveled hair;
not realising he's long been dead,
despite which I feel his presence everywhere!

They say he took a bullet each,
for all friends that he saved.
So was the destination he would reach,
through his heroic demeanour that the survivors praised.

I still anticipate his arrival,
holding the sweater he asked me to knit;
while a part of me awaits the reprisal,
to avenge those scoundrels bit by bit!

Nothing can calm my vehement silence,
nor the outpour of my dried tears.
I succumb to my very own defiance,
of the reality that every mother fears.

144 stories, 144 lives,
are not meant to gather dust in public archives.
We will not forget their abrupt conclusion,
 written in red ink through a nasty seclusion.

On the death anniversary of flowers,
we share a unified sorrow;
for they were crushed quite brutally,
but their fragrance lingers on ...   


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  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  2. Beautifully expressed the Heartfelt grief of a mother.

  3. Thanks for your comments, Abdul Haseeb and Gulzar. We can't even begin to imagine what these mothers would be going through. These words (fictional) are merely an expression of a devastated mother.