I saw that familiar green sweater that once was mine. Except, this sweater was drenched in blood unlike mine. Yesterday I remember losing my strength to move, to think, to speak. My body went numb while my heart bled. There was something trickling down my cheek, a tear. I wiped it away but soon fresh tears took its place and I knew I couldn’t wipe these tears away. Not for long anyway. Because the devastating scene unfolding in front of me demanded the shed of tears.

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How can one not cry seeing kids wrapped in blood? How can one not cry when you see their white uniforms with stains of blood instead of ink? How can you not cry thinking about the parents? How can you not cry imagining it could be you? You’d have to be a rock, to not cry, to not feel the pain of the innocents.

Yesterday, the nation staggered to its’ feet. We mourned. We suffered.

But, even though today is a new day, remember that the blood spilt is still fresh. Remember there are graves yet to be dug.
So, today don’t busy yourself in the lulling rhythm of the everyday life. For today, when you wake up in your beds.
There’s a mother waking up to an empty bed.
A father waking up to a funeral.
A sibling waking up to the haunting silence.

By: Abeer Anwar
IoBM, Karachi

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