Last night she dreamt of geometric shapes, which gathered above her bed and formed a crystal cloud. It rained shards of bright coloured glass. She awoke and thought ‘I have nothing left to fear’. Always gifted with words and comrades. With lovers and visions. With the ocean and shelter. And one day with a daughter who she will raise to be a peace maker. An artist. A loud voice. A seeker. A girl who feels the space she takes up in this world is deserved. Just like her mother raised her to be.
She’s sitting in the government office with tears in her eyes and a heaviness weighing on her heart. The line is long and the place is full of desperate faces. The news is on and a baby is sent back to detention, to gasp in poisoned air behind bars. Sent back to where grief and loss soak the atmosphere. No longer on the sea yet still swimming through an ocean of sadness. Still swimming through the same uncertain waters which offer no sanctuary or stability. Only the ship has docked and their weary feet now walk on unfamiliar land.
‘I have nothing left to fear’, these words already lost in the past as she feels an old, omnipresent presence slip into her space. It can sense the girls fate. It can smell her fear for the babies who will never know what it’s like to lie in solitude under the stars. It can smell her fear for the babies who will never get to hear their lovers sing. It can smell her fear for the babies who will never get to be anything but small, vulnerable beings.
This presence fogs her dream. Tiny corpses litter the streets and ugly men with fake gold teeth screech on the television screens. Little bombs detonate bigger bombs. Corruption is met with blind eyes and scape goats. Farmers commit suicide. She knows these nightmares are just another brief flicker. She knows that in the light of morning there is hope to be found. She must get out of bed and learn how this chaos can be set right.