Cold floor

I remember the first time I held you in my arms...

I remember the first time I held you in my arms
You had just arrived: curious and warm
I whispered the adhan into your ears
And saw the twinkle in your eye
I would swaddle you and carry you in my arms —
My source of pride.

I remember when your mom called, saying you fell off the bed
Your cries were drowned out by the hum of the stove
She saw you, quiet on the floor, and her heart broke
That day always left tremors in my soul
I think of all the emotions your tiny heart went through:
Mom, dad, will you pick me? I’m hurting.

Or that time you fell off your board
While I was teaching you to swim
I scooped you up at once
But you looked so grim
Or that time you came smeared in blood as you fell off the bike —
Other kids have it worse, you brushed it aside.

You slept to the recitations of the Qur’an
Or asked me to tell you stories — always two, never repeats
Your imagination was beyond your years
Always ready to learn, you knew no fear.

We dreamed of the man you’d become
Coolness of our eyes and a blessing for the ummah
But that day will never come:
Now you lie motionless, my child, on a cold hospital floor
Only this time your mom won’t pick you up,
And I won’t receive anyone’s call.

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