Under the stars she lay awake on the damp sand her skin cold and numbed. The tides roared vigorously against the silent night overshadowing the Swahili taarab playing from the beach resort. Her arms crossed each other on top of her holding a note book closely to her body as some priceless treasure. But who could blame her for that was the only memory she had of her lost daughter. Warm fresh tears replaced the prior ones painting two wet strings of tears that fell down her face to her ear on both sides. They said time is a healer but two years had passed and she hurt still just like the first time. Rehemas body was freezing it was time for her to leave before she got sick. It was her last night home she would leave in the morning to Europe she didn’t want to get sick before the journey. Maybe a new place will make the pain more bearable, maybe she will find her strength again. Her daughter had loved the beach the water fascinated her so much. She always ran and crawled towards it. Her smile always widened when the waves slapped against her tiny legs and she could giggle loudly and gasp. She would have grown up to be a great swimmer just like her. Rehema smiled at the thought. The beach was the most memorable place she spent with her baby and may be it might have been the reason she got asthma, she hated herself for that. But maybe “it was no one’s fault” just as doctor Jane puts it.
Rising to her feet the notebook still in her hands, she caressed its pages stopping at the last page that had a picture of her daughter in a pink swim suit with gold details. “Oh God she was beautiful!” was oh yes past tense it had taken her so long to refer in that manner. At times she still felt guilty after she did. Below the picture were words scribbled in her handwriting. Looking at the ocean she read out the words aloud against the roars of the tides.
You could be two
You could be joy or tears
Maybe this world was unfit for your kind
I could never know but guess
But one thing I attest my little one this world never
You repelled its cruelty
But could s are puzzles questions
I will never answer …… in peace my angel
A beautiful poem for her daughter……taking a last look at the note book full of poems she had written for her little angel since she passed away, rehema signed breathing heavily she tossed the book into the ocean and left, her eyes dried for now she cried in her soul but with hope of a better dawn.