When a mother turns away from her daughter,
the daughter does not burn.
To burn is to turn into ashes,
and ashes blend with the soil,
as if they never existed.
But she existed,
with all the despair her existence could embrace.
She existed.
So instead, the daughter drowns—
submerged in a deep ocean of sorrow,
untouched and unseen.
She sinks so deeply,
her body never floats to the surface,
unseen by any witness,
oblivious to her pain.
Her grief does not fade;
it remains trapped within her,
entwined with her very being—
the grief of being a daughter.
Oh, how pitiful it is for the daughter,
Oh, how lonely it is for the daughter,
who longs for a mother’s embrace,
who cries for someone to hold her,
who battles to breathe once again,
who wishes she never had a presence...
