I am my mother’s daughter, woven from the same celestial thread. Our souls, entwined across time, echo in the chambers of existence.

My heart, a fragile vessel, mirrors hers. It knows the rhythm of both sinking and soaring—the ebb and flow of love’s tides. When she wept, I tasted salt on my own lips; when she laughed, my spirit danced alongside hers.

My voice, a trembling reed, carries her legacy. It quivers with the weight of shared sorrows—the ache of loss, the ache of memory. In the quiet hours, I whisper her name, and the syllables tremble like leaves in a storm.

My arms, cradles of tenderness, recall her touch. Long before fear etched its jagged lines upon my skin, she held me close, a sanctuary against the world’s tempests. Her warmth seeped into my bones, an ancient promise of safety.

And her blood—the sacred river that flows through generations—courses through my veins. I am a vessel of gratitude, a living tribute to her sacrifices. When I trace the map of my existence, I find her there, etched in every cell.

So, I stand on this precipice of time, a bridge between past and future. In the quietude of dawn, I honor her—the keeper of secrets, the weaver of dreams. Her blood, a river of resilience, carries me forward, and I am forever grateful for the legacy she bestowed upon me.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer

Watercolor Painting Art