I saw my soul once, near my father’s grave, crying. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the depths of my being laid bare amidst the somber backdrop of loss. The tears flowed freely, a testament to the emotions that surge within me when the world seems to conspire against my spirit.

Crying is what I do when the winds blow, and the sky knows, and I am alone. In those solitary moments, I find solace in the release of my tears, a silent communion with the elements that bear witness to my inner turmoil. The sky, vast and knowing, becomes a silent confidant to my unspoken sorrows.

Alone against the night, fighting for my right to be myself. I stand resolute in the face of darkness, a lone warrior in the battle for authenticity. The night may loom large, but I refuse to be diminished in its shadow, fiercely asserting my right to embrace my true identity.

Wishing against hope – myself I will find trembling beneath the vines of a wicked past. Amidst the tangled memories of bygone days, I search for the essence of my being, trembling with the weight of history’s scars. The past may be deemed gone, but its echoes linger, shaping the contours of my existence.

I believe in tomorrow, until it isn’t. My faith in the promise of tomorrow remains unwavering, until the day when hope falters. Yet, even in the absence of profound revelations, I find solace in the simple beauty of nature – the gentle breeze, the blossoming petals of spring.

Spring is where I find all I know, like fresh greens bursting forth, and my own hollowed out soul. In the renewal of spring, I discover fragments of my own truth, akin to the fresh greens bursting forth from the earth. Within this cycle of rebirth, I confront the hollowness within, seeking to fill it with the vitality of life’s ongoing journey.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer