Rima.

a while ago I was reading/watching documentaries about the journeys' of refugees. i ended up spending most of the night just listening to interviews and reading a number of articles, it just seemed so unreal. hundreds of people packed onto boats made of rubber, suited for at most 15 - 20 people, paying up to over £1000 and still not even guaranteed a life jacket. so many risked everything on the hopes of freedom, just to spend their nights at gated borders. anyway, i was in the mood to write something and it only seemed right.

the sounds of cutlery being placed on a table in the room below tells her it's time to wake up.

she pulls the duvet over her head,

they won't mind if she sleeps a little longer.

however no matter how tight she tries to close her eyes,

her mother's voice echoes in her ears.

"are you planning to sleep all day Rima? Am I the only one who sees that the sun has risen?"

she sits herself up, 

kicking the duvet to the end of her bed in protest.

"yes. yes. I see it" she mutters to herself. 

it's almost as though the sun is purposely forcing itself through her window to prove a point.

it won't be too long until she's called down for breakfast. 

in an attempt to get herself ready,

Rima runs her fingers through her hair but she's paying the price for not brushing it the night before and is met by knots.

so she grabs her hairbrush out of the drawer and walks towards the window.

"look" she whispers.

beyond the cars filling the streets and above tiled rooftops,

staring out at the distant blue water,
she feels the sun's warmth on her cheeks.
the door opens behind her.

"isn't it strange?" she asks."they say this one has a different name but it looks exactly the same to me. both beautiful only from afar. delicate waves that smothered us during the day and kept us in fear at night, that taunted us for hours on end, whilst we clung onto each other with the little life in us we had left. fingernails dug into damp clothes, stomachs stirring from hunger and uncertainty, how dare it glisten like so?"
"The world is made up of pain and beauty my dear" she hears her mother say. "it is your choice on what you see"
" but it's taken so much from us." she responds through clenched teeth. "all we once had has now either amounted to nothing but rubble or is in the hands of those who gave us an estimate on our freedom. we escaped with nothing but the clothes only our backs, nothing but the cries left for only our ears, nothing but our prayers we recited only to God. how could it be that many had to declare those waters graves before their unborn had a chance to call somewhere home!"
"what about all it's given you? there is so much to be thankful for Rima, you must never forget that"

hands now rested on her warm cheeks, she nods reluctantly.
"good morning Rima". says the voice behind her.

eyes still fixated on waves.
"sabaaH alkhayr". 

"pardon?"

"sabaaH alkhayr" she repeats. "i'm saying good morning to my mother".