By Aneez Fathima


April eighth a blissful day,

Allah bestowed a baby with ray.

Handsome with gorgeous eyes,

Enthralled us to be in highs.


Responded to the prayer call,

And astonished like a cute doll.

Dad brimmed with tears,

All happiness with cheers.


He struggled as a special child,

World couldn’t accept and chided.

Thrown to death in the earth

I bled even more than his birth


Fire blazed in my belly,

And burnt me alive ‘helly’.

I used to grieve and scream

But he became a dream.


A month before his birth,

My dad prophesied in depth.

Vague was then his phrase,

Explicit now with the phase.


May be a teenager if alive

In Barzakh enjoying live.

Now he is in the Safest Hand,

That won’t throw him to the land.


Birthdays revisited without him,

A painful day that pinned me dim.

Enduring with acceptance,

And thriving with tolerance.


  • A poem dedicated to my late son Faheem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s