I did raise my boy to die…

By Fariya Kabir

My poem explores a mother’s emotions about sending her boy to war.

I still remember your first sign of existence, the most precious word “positive”. . . 
Your first kick at my stomach. . . 
Your first flap of eyelids. . . 
Your first sight of me. . . 
Your first drop of tears. . . 
Your first smile. . . 
Your first hug. . . 
Your first call, “Mom”. . . 
Your first fall. . . 
Your first footstep. . . 
Your first birthday. . . 
Your first ABC. . . 
Your first day of school. . . 
Your first report card. . . 
Your first day of high school. . . 
Your first night away from home. . . 
Your first crush. . . 
Your first speech at school in public. . . 
Your first day of college. . . 
Your first love. . . 
Your first heartbreak. . . 
Your first misunderstanding with me. . . 
Your first sorry. . . 
Your first career. . . 
Your first uniform. . . 
Your first day you left to join the soldiers. . . 
Your first drop of blood on the ground. . . 
Your last face before your death.

I still remember everything, my love
Through all those firsts,
I never thought I was raising my boy to die. 
I was raising him to live in the heart of every mother, of his motherland.

Process

I was inspired to write this poem after listening to the song “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier,” written by Alfred Bryan.