Her eyes bit into hers and, what a shame, since love often resided there. Brown spears sprung from a deep darkness pooled into circular rounds, cushioned only by a sense of humanity. To blink would’ve meant she’d lose her stance, her power.
A black ring outlined the severity of her response to her mother who could only break with sorrow at having realized her daughter stood stronger than she did.
The daughter’s eyelashes frayed her lids, framing the centers with honor and pride. Those eyes waited for no one, bowed to nothing, spoke to all, especially the figure she knew no longer posed a threat.
The mother’s eyes paled in comparison, a light green, tired and worn. They ached and blinked too much. The black spears, once strong, were scattered and bent, blending into the green with no real destination. The black ring blurred and swirled, knowing no boundaries.
So, the mother’s eyelids fell half-mast, cradling the idea that life need not be a fight. She bore no resentment or anger at losing this battle with the daughter she loved more than life. She even offered what little strength she had left to the daughter who suddenly blinked, then bit her bottom lip to punish herself for such weakness.
Her eyes took her mother’s strength with a glorious grin that crinkled the edges of her Egyptian-eyeliner handed to her by the gods who’d traced them at birth. She breathed and her eyes flew open much wider now when she felt the sensitivity of that strength.
The pump of it meant they remained connected so that to hurt one, would hurt the other.
Locked together, mother and daughter.
Spears for eyes.
BraveSmartBold 
Lisa, this is a fabulous post. One of your best. Maybe having a teenage daughter drew me deeper into this one 🙂
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I think having daughters makes that connection much deeper. We meet in darker places.
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Great post. You got me caught right into that moment. Thank you!
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Good to catch it for you. Thanks for reading.
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