My mother is like water. Always finding a way out, seeping through cracks in the wall, shaping harsh rocks into velvet. She is a metamorphosis. Water solidifies, liquefies, evaporates, and flows seamlessly – glaciers into oceans, oceans into clouds, clouds into rain …
My mother is like water, but it appears as though she has hit a dam. A tall, cold, raw concrete wall, an impermeable barrier holding her hostage. Trapped, unaware of the price she has to pay, the ransom that would set her free.
I am just a spectator watching her decay in stagnating water. Slowly, almost imperceptibly.