My mother is like water

damBy Elissaveta Marinova

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.

And I.

I am just a spectator watching her decay in stagnating water. Slowly, almost imperceptibly.

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