I miss them.
Those three little words hardly seem ample to cover the depths of my feelings towards my departed family.
The sternness of my father.
The warmth of my mother.
The playfulness of Dunyazad, my dearest sister.
This has all been taken from me.
By the hand of your thrice-damned father Suleiman.
A curse I put on him and the forests of your lands.
They did not deserve the fate meted out to them.
Just as I do not deserve my banishment.
In a prison of my own making.
Sometimes it all becomes too much to bear.
I sit down and my eyes fill with tears.
Through the salty veil I see you Suleiman.
I curse at your triumphs.
And laugh at your defeats.
I sometimes see you walking along the paths of your palace.
You stop and look around suddenly, with a worried look on your face.
I put all my might into bhoping that our eyes may meet across the distance that seperates us.
That you may see the despair in my face and rage in my heart.
But you never do.
I had a dream last night.
As I lay sleeping in my bed
A small girl with hair the colour of the sun
Came to stand beside my sleeping body
In her hands was a bouquet of desert roses
(Just as Dunyazad would bring me)
She lay her hand on my head to wake me
As I awoke she threw the roses into the air
As they reached the pinnacle of their flight
They exploded in a fountain of rose petals
It was as if the whole world had turned red
When they finally settled on the ground
The girl was gone
I looked at the petals on the ground
They spelt out a message
HE IS COMING FOR YOU
Inshallah, it is just a dream.