I knew her before I laid my eyes on her.

She was the voice that drew in the ocean.

Her eyes were the moon that shone in the sky, a lone light wandering the dark skies, lighting the path for those returning home and those out to take what others have worked hard for.

When people spoke of her; their voices would tremble as though they were striking a chord, caressing a baby, or looking beyond the sun. I knew this woman. I knew she was royalty before I saw her. It was the words that preceded her arrival that haunt me to date.

They say there was none like Neema.

They call her The Crown of the Sea.

I do not know why, or how she came by that name- but I know she oozed power and freedom, a finality that clouded the air around her.