A Peshawari Mother’s Cry

A Peshawari Mothers Cry short poem

Photo by e³°°°

How could it happen?
no, not to my son
his half eaten sandwich still on the table
his glass of milk half empty
the bang of his school van door
still echoing
the towel in his bathroom still wet
how could it happen?
no, not to my son
his books strewn on his bed
his new birthday dress
still hanging in his closet
wanting to be worn
his new bag lying on the table
it could not happen
no, not to my son
his green badge, his blood strewn red bag,
the roll in his lunch box still warm
yes, its my son’s
yes! it did happen

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