I see my past deep within the murky waters of the well.
A past that I can't physically touch, for it only lives in the deep abyss of my mind.
But ever so often, the images rise and fade
Blend in and out
Concave and converse
And distort beyond recognition.
I see the faces of those who loved me
And I see the faces of those long gone
I see the faces of those who didn't judge me for being
But in their minds I was just right.
They are people I recognize
Their blood flows thick and warm through my veins
The connection bone deep
More real than pure life itself
And they are calling me
To look down into the waters and see them in the well.
As I look there the image merges into a reflection that I recognize, although I don't consider it as much as I should.
The reflection is one I recognize
It is an image of me...
Of course it is me:
For I am the amalgamation of all those who came before me.
From Women of Color Workshop, 2011... 5 minute writing prompt: Write a story about looking into a well and what you see.. .
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