Uncomfortably Numb

The heart weeps As if it forgot how to beat I close my eyes and see faces Of children in uniforms Drenched in blood The blood of innocence I see that mother Beside that coffin I see that father Kissing the dead hand I see dreams shattered I see futures Being buried I see my son In those faces And I can't hold my tears I can't stop my heart from exploding You who have lost your child I know your pain I weep with you I grieve with you I pray for you

Rohan would have turned 11 this September and when I posted his pic online someone who obviously didn't know about the events of last year asked me who was he and I kept asking myself the same question after that, who was he? Perhaps the more pertinent question is what was he to me? Rohan, was a culmination of prayers, for three years of trying, as all newly weds struggling with conception know how that feels. As if his arrival opened new doors for me, my job at MTA got permanent(after two years of volunteer work)a month after he was born. I remember vividly the moment he was handed over to me that small cuckoon wrapped in soft blue cloth and small baby clothes which his mother had spent weeks preparing. There is nothing like holding your child for the first time, everything about that moment gets etched in your memory forever, the tiny hands and feet, your afraid that you might drop the baby and then the fragrance of Johnson's baby powder. Those small movements the