I am a kind word uttered and repeated

By the voice of Nature;

I am a fallen star from the

Blue tent upon the green carpet.

I am the daughter of the elements

With whom Winter conceived;

To whom Spring gave birth; I was

Reared in the lap of Summer and I

Slept in the bed of Autumn.

"Mum?" Riaz walked cautiously into the kitchen. "Mum?"

"I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it." She mumbled continuously from behind the granite island that sat ominously in the middle of the kitchen.

"What happened?" He knelt down before her, carefully sidestepping the pieces of broken glass and food strewn around her. He didn't expect the loud crash in the kitchen to come from her own hands but he wasn't surprised by it either.

"I can't do it. I'm useless," she mumbled again, unmindful of the bits of glass piercing the bottom of her feet and grazing her palms.

"You're not useless." He took her palms in his hand, rubbing over the light red imprints with his thumbs.

"I can't even cook! It spoilt."

She huddled further into herself, rocking herself backwards and forwards.

"Come on..." He lifted her to her feet as if she were a rag doll. She put up no fight nor gave any protest. All that escaped her mouth was a muffled groan of pain as she shifted her weight onto her cut feet.

"I'm useless. He said I'm useless."

He ignored her mumbles and moans as he lifted her frail body into her arms and carried her up the stairs towards her bedroom. She was barely even conscious of the fact that he had picked her up nor did she register the feeling of her soft bed beneath her as he set her down.

"Let me look at your feet." His knee chaffed against the hard wooden floor as he supported her foot on his leg. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself, hmm?" he asked her gently as he pried the little pieces of glass from her foot with a tweezer.

"Because I'm stupid." She winced as he pulled another glass splinter from her foot.

"You're not stupid," he said quietly, wiping away the small trickles of blood away from her skin.

"I am stupid." She sniffed, watching him over the edge of her fingers that rested on top of her raised knee.

"No, you're not stupid." He wrapped her foot in a thin bandage, before he smiled up at her.

"I am. I can't do anything. He doesn't love me. He always calls me stupid." He stood up, watching silently at his mother crying pitifully into her upturned hands as she poured her soul out through her tears.

"Shh Mama." He sat down beside her, his large body seemed to engulf hers as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"He doesn't love me. Why doesn't he love me? I love him but he doesn't love me."

The words made him sick.

How could she love him? How could she love a man who destroyed her? He shattered her into pieces without blinking an eye and she loved him. That wasn't love. How could she love a man who beat her and taunted her and ridiculed her?

How could she love a man who raped her?

"He doesn't love me. No one loves me." She mumbled into his chest. "Niemand is lief vir my. Niemand is lief vir my."

No one loves me. No one loves me.

Did she even know she had switched to Afrikaans?

"Ek en Farhana is lief vir Mama."

Farhana and I love you.

He whispered it over and over into her ear until she began to listen to him. He whispered it in the language he knew would comfort her. It was the language his father had forbidden but it was the language her mother had sang to her as she was rested in her arms. It was the language she had listened to from within the womb of her mother... It was the language of her mother's thoughts and the language of her heart that poured all of the love within it into the little child growing beneath it. And he kept whispering until her mind had stopped telling her the same thing over and over again. 

She listened till she finally heard the words.

Ek en Farhana is lief vir Mama.

Farhana and I love you.

She shook her head roughly as soon as she heard her daughter's name.

"Nee?"

No?

She shook her head, her tears still soaking through the thin material of his t-shirt.

"Is sy nie lief vir jou nie?"

Doesn't she love you?

She nodded her head, the top of her head bumping against the bottom of his jaw.

"En wat van my?"

And what about me?

"Is ek lief vir jou?"

Do I love you?

She only listened, considering his words before she nodded her head so slightly that he only felt it as a wisp against his chest.

"Ja Mama, ek is baie lief vir jou."

Yes Mum. I love you very much.

He held her just a little tighter against his side, smoothing out the hair that had escaped from her bun.

"En Jy? Is Mama lief vir my?"

And you? Do you love me?

She shook her head slightly, causing the smallest of smiles to grace his face.

"Jy is nie lief vir my nie?"

Don't you love me?

She shook her head once again, grasping the material of his shirt tightly in her hand.

"Jy is my hart Ma."

You're my heart, Mum.

He kissed the side of her head softly before he stood up, allowing his mother to find her peace for just a little while.

"Ek is..." She grabbed onto his hand, stopping him before he could walk away.

He turned around, looking down at her as she grappled for the words that seemed to have lost themselves within the depths of her mind.

"Ek is baie lief vir jou, my seun." She smiled up at him, tears coating her eyes as if they were specks of diamonds. "Ek is baie lief vir jou. Jy is my hart en my siel en jy maak my baie, baie gelukkig."

I love you very much, my son. You're my heart and my soul and you make me very, very happy.

She grabbed both his hands in her own, marvelling at how big her son had grown. There was a time when she used to hold his hand in the middle of the night because he was afraid of the dark and she would stare fascinated at the way her own hands seemed so big holding his tiny palms.

But now... Her hands could barely grip all of his fingers.

He had grown and she didn't even know it. He had grown into a strong, tall handsome man and she didn't even know him anymore.

She kissed both of his palms before she pressed them gently to her cheeks.

He looked down at her and for that one minute, nothing else mattered.

He had seen his mother and nothing else existed except his hands around her cheeks.

He knew he would never see this again- this rare glimpse into what his mother would have been like and he treasured it. He treasured it so deeply within his heart that it would never be snatched away. In that moment, she was the rose she was always meant to be.

He wiped away the tears that had gathered around his fingertips before he kissed her lightly on her forehead.

"Sleep now, Mum." He helped her to lie down before he covered her with the throw at the end of her bed and walked away.

And that image would never leave him for the rest of his life. His mother was bathed in sunlight- even her hair seemed to glow as she smiled at him before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

In that second, she was an Angel.

...

At dawn I unite with the breeze

To announce the coming of light;

At eventide I join the birds

In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with my beautiful colours, and the air

Is scented with my fragrance.

"I got a bursary to study at Wits."

She was picking off the little pink flowers that grew on one of the low hanging branches of the crossberry tree above them before plucking the petals into her lap as she listened to him.

"What do you want to study?" She smiled as he reached up and began plucking little flowers along with her.

"Chemical engineering." He looked down at the petals that had gathered on his lap as they began to lift slightly with the light breeze that had washed over them. "My dad wants me to go."

"And what do you want to do?"

The little petal continued to jump about their laps, unsure if they should stay or fly away.

"I don't know." He closed his eyes as he leaned back, enjoying the gentle caress of the sunlight on his face. "I don't want to leave my Mum and my sister."

And as he said that, it suddenly became real.

Could he just leave? Could he leave his life?

Could he live a day without fearing his dad? The thought was incomprehensible. He had lived for so long in the shadows of fear and pain that he was sure he would never be able to face the light again. He didn't know how to? He had never known how to live in the light of peace and comfort and safety...

It wasn't his life.

Could he leave his mother? He didn't want to leave her? He didn't want to close his eyes at night imagining what she was going through? Imagining what his father was doing to her. What would happen to her if he wasn't there to wipe the blood off her feet or wash the cuts drawn onto her hand?

He couldn't leave her but he couldn't stay.

He needed to leave but...

He felt her hand close over his, squeezing the tips of his fingers lightly.

"Whatever you choose," She smiled up at him, fascinated at the way the sun shone upon his hair- making it look as if he had fine threads of gold weaved through his short blond hair. "I'll miss you."

And she would miss him.

She would miss seeing him everyday and she would miss admiring his beautiful green eyes. She would miss his quiet demeanour and his intelligence. And she would miss the way his hand enfolded hers as they held hands, almost as if her hands seemed to get lost within his warm grasp. She would miss the way his soft words washed over her when they spoke and she would miss the notes he had written to her.

She would miss him and the peace he brought with him as they sat together and revelled in the normalcy of their abnormal lives.

He opened his eyes in time to see the petals flying over her lap as they twirled happily around the Wind as if they had been waiting all their lives for him to pick them up and dance with them...

...

"What do you mean by they're here?"

Tasneem shouldn't have been eavesdropping but she needed to know for how long he would be gone.

It was a beautiful feeling to know that he wasn't there. To know that he wouldn't watch over her as she slept or touch her when he knew she was awake. Even if it was just for one night, her heart felt light and happy. That for one night she could just... be.

And it was glorious.

"I don't care. That whore and her bastard of a son had better not show their faces in public if they know what's good for them."

She didn't know who her mother was talking about.

She had never been one to resort to profanities. Her mother was too upright to ever use such words so it confused her. She had a bad feeling and everything in her was telling her to watch out for it.

But she just didn't know what it was.

"That bitch!"

The phone barely missed her head as it crashed against the wall besides her.

"What happened?"

Her mother was leaning over the edge of her table, her chest expanding heavily with each breath she took as her anger seemed to course through every vessel that ran through her body.

"Go to your room." She clutched at her chest, sure that her heart would fall out if she hadn't held it in tight enough.

Tasneem walked up to her mother, worried at her reaction. "Tell me, please. What happened?"

"Just go to your room, Tasneem." She commanded once again.

"No. You're not okay." She held onto her mother's arm, trying to help her to her seat.

"Leave me alone!" She yanked herself out of her daughter's hold.

"Tell me!"

"Leave me the fuck alone and go back to your room!" Her mother's loud voice boomed throughout the small study.

Tasneem said nothing more and walked away.

"Please Tasneem! Don't let him do this!"

Her screams were quietened by his large hand as he tore through her clothes yet still her pleading and begging came out as muffled groans of agony.

He was ruthless and he was evil and Tasneem couldn't do a thing as his hand toyed with the elastic band of her pyjamas.

She could feel it. She could feel every bit of pain. Every time she winced, Tasneem felt it and every new tear that rolled down her cheek, rolled down Tasneem's cheek too.

And she could do nothing as she sat frozen.

She could only watch his face as he smiled at her.

Her eyes opened to a blurred view of a ceiling as little droplets of tears clogged her vision.

It was no use. She would never be rid of him. Even when he was gone, his nightmares still plagued her mind and she couldn't stop it. No matter what she did, she couldn't escape him.

He was in everything around her. He choked her in the air she inhaled; he burnt her in the sunlight that streamed down her face and he whispered sickening things to her through the birds that chirped at Dawn's call. He was in every whimper and every cry and every tear and she would never be rid of him... She could never escape him because he was every bit a part of herself as she was and she hated him for it.

She hated him so much that it consumed her. This hatred was dark and evil and it only festered as pus in a wound. It was powerful and it was scary and it frightened her. It frightened her to think that these feelings were as much a part of her as her own lungs and heart.

She switched on the lampshade beside her before she reached for the folded piece of white paper that she had hidden in the stitching of her mattress.

She couldn't let them find it. They wouldn't taint this... They wouldn't taint this because it was the only thing that was pure and beautiful in her life. It was hers. It was her peace and her solitude in the darkness of the night. It was a token of his friendship and she would never let them take it from her.

She opened the white squared piece of paper, allowing the little pink flower to fall to her lap- smiling at the way it contrasted against her dark sheets.

And as she read it, she cried happy tears for the first time in her life.

They were tears that stemmed from the part of her heart that was still bathed in light and beauty and goodness and they were extraordinary.

I'll miss you too.

...

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of

Night watch over me, and as I

Awaken I stare at the sun, which is

The only eye of the day.

But I look up high to see only the light,

And never look down to see my shadow.

I am the memory of a moment of happiness;

I am the last gift of the living to the dead;

I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow...

And I never look down to see my shadow.

A/N This poem was adapted from Khalil Gibran's poem called Song Of The Flower.