She wailed hard, tears streamed down her face in rivers of great magnitude, hands clasping the back of her head. She trod upon the thorny covered roads with her bare feet. Even her headscarf sat on her hair without style but despair. The cloth that was meant to cover her modesty danced with the winds, neglecting its duties. She just didn’t care anymore. They said she was a woman possessed by some evil spirit. Some said because of her unending tears the dead were turning in their graves.
They labeled her, laughed at her and satirized her in undue light, she just didn’t care anymore. She was going to climb mountains, turn the earth and the vessels upside down and look for that needle in the haystack if she had to. She saw things that others had never seen before. She was a woman with a vision………