A Mother's Lament

For nine months

I nourished him in my womb

This longed-for child

This gift of God

After years of hoping

Losing hope, then praying

At all the places of worship

Believed to be ‘alive’ with

The presence of God

At last, the happy day

Beyond joy, beyond relief

This perfect child…

Oh, how we adored him!

Nothing was too much for him

No sacrifice too great

Willing slaves to his every whim

His father and I

But slowly, he changed

Became secretive, sly

His friends were strangers

Serious, grim

He was sixteen

When he left

Without a word

Without ‘goodbye’

Breaking our hearts

Leaving us bereft

The months passed

Without a word

We carried on

With our lives

Numbly,

Beyond hurt

And then, the shock

His bullet-ridden body

Left at our doorstep

By unknown hands

That longed-for child

That gift of God

Taken away violently

At barely eighteen

His father died

Soon after

Grief-stricken

No will to live

I carry on

With a heart of stone

Wondering

“Why was he born?’

I have no words

Since that day

They call me ‘mad’…

Perhaps I am...

But I neither know nor care....