I knew her before I laid my eyes on her.
She was the voice that drew in the ocean.
Her eyes were the moon that shone in the sky, a lone light wandering the dark skies, lighting the path for those returning home and those out to take what others have worked hard for.
When people spoke of her; their voices would tremble as though they were striking a chord, caressing a baby, or looking beyond the sun. I knew this woman. I knew she was royalty before I saw her. It was the words that preceded her arrival that haunt me to date.
They say there was none like Neema.
They call her The Crown of the Sea.
I do not know why, or how she came by that name- but I know she oozed power and freedom, a finality that clouded the air around her.