Fragility Of Life

Like any other day, the class had assembled to attend the English literature period. Sister Benedict was known for her oratorial skills and had the full class listening to her speak on the classical poets.

"Let's talk about Wordsworth's poem on "Daffodils", one of the classics in English Romantic Poetry. Who would like to interpret this poem?"

Several hands were raised in response. "Meera let's hear your take". Sister Benedict chose her from the class of twenty-five students, knowing she hardly ever spoke in class.

"Sister what the poet is saying is pretty obvious. He must have walked into a field of daffodils..." and before she could complete there was a loud noise of glass panels shattering and then the smell of gunfire.

Some of the students had already ducked under the tables. Meera stood frozen and then slumped down with the impact of the bullet that hit straight in the middle of her forehead. Her interpretation of the poem half finished.

The culprit, a boy in his teens had opened fire without any reason. Later diagnosed as suffering from mental health.

Sister Benedict remembers that day when the daffodils turned red from yellow, with the blood of innocents.