Month: December 2023

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Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

beatrizesmer

To romanticize the world is to peel back the layers of reality and reveal the enchantment that lies beneath. It is to awaken the soul to the magic, mystery, and wonder that dance through the fabric of existence. It is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, and the finite as infinite. In the romanticized world, every dewdrop on a petal is a glistening gem, every rustling leaf a whispered secret, and every sunset a masterpiece painted by the hand of divinity. It is a world where the scent … Continue reading Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

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Your eyes: the color of poetry

beatrizesmer

I am seeking the very flowers in your eyes, let me rest my gaze on your iris! Pollinated pupil; ripe. Ripe with meaning, swollen with assurance. God’s tongue. You speak to me in the forgotten language of souls. I remember how we used to speak through silence before all the noise came. In the garden of your eyes, I find the blossoms of truth, delicate petals that whisper secrets only the heart can hear. Each glance is a dance, a ballet of emotions that twirls and pirouettes, painting a picture of love and understanding. Your eyes are the windows to … Continue reading Your eyes: the color of poetry

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Just be …

beatrizesmer

Forget about love. About finding it. Forget about your heart that breaks like porcelain. No, something more difficult to sweep up off the floor. Your heart like glass. Forget about it. You will go on anyway, no matter how many shards are left scattered across the years. Forget about the people you broke too. The ones you couldn’t get out from under your skin. Forget about things that remind you that love is the color of bleeding. Forget about what you used to heal the wounds. Forget about love. Forget about being alone when you are alone and just be … Continue reading Just be …

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Ma belle amie …

beatrizesmer

Le corps n’oublie jamais rien ! Elle a avancé comme une automate, résignée et bien droite, aristocrate, mais elle portait des souliers de plomb. D’un coup, son décor en carton a explosé. Et elle se débat, pour enfin vivre, lâcher ses combats, pour enfin rire, mais elle est fatiguée de tant de lourdeur, elle ne voulait que l’amour, le bonheur ! Ma belle amie, je voudrais tant t’aider. Je peux te donner ma tendresse et t’aimer, je peux te dire de croire en la magie, magie de cet univers qui crée la vie ! Le poids de la douleur, il … Continue reading Ma belle amie …

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Language of feelings

beatrizesmer

In the quiet depths of an unspoken anguish, there lies a pain that refuses to be contained by silence. It echoes through the chambers of the heart, a wordless lament that cannot be stilled. Yet, in that same silence, there exists a love that whispers softly, weaving its tender embrace through the fabric of our souls. The language of pain is a word that speaks directly to our innermost being, reaching out with a raw and unyielding honesty. It stands in parallel to the language of love, a sacred vow that binds us together in moments of both joy and … Continue reading Language of feelings

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Time …

beatrizesmer

Time, where did you go? Why did you leave me here alone? Wait! Don’t go so fast. I’m missing the moments as they pass. Like a fleeting dream, you slip through my fingers, leaving me yearning for the past that lingers. Moments once held, now memories in flight, I reach out to grasp them, with all my might. The laughter, the tears, the love that we shared, now scattered like whispers, in the cool, night air. Oh, time, slow down, let me savor each day, before they all fade and slowly slip away. In the rush of life, I long … Continue reading Time …

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Bubbles

beatrizesmer

A myriad of bubbles was floating on the surface of a stream, shimmering and dancing in the sunlight. “What are you?” I cried out to them as they drifted by, each one a tiny universe of its own. “I am a bubble, of course,” nearly all of them answered with surprise and indignation in their voices, as if my question was absurd. But amidst the chorus of individuality, here and there, a lonely bubble answered, “We are this stream,” and there was neither surprise nor indignation, but just a quiet certitude. In that simple response, I felt the wisdom of … Continue reading Bubbles

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Life mystery

beatrizesmer

In the embrace of time’s relentless dance, all that I hold dear will fade, wither, and return to the earth. Every joy, every tender moment, every living thing born from my own flesh, will one day be consumed by the passage of time. The gardens and fields, the silent lilies that grace the woods, the ancient trees that stand as sentinels on the hills, and the very earth itself—all will eventually reclaim what they have given. Let the world heap its sorrows upon me, envelop me in the shroud of darkness without stars, so that I may come to understand … Continue reading Life mystery

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The truth that many don’t want to see; a daily struggle for everyone who fights for justice

beatrizesmer

The advocacy for the Palestinian cause is a deeply challenging and often disheartening endeavor. The struggle to bring attention to the plight of the Palestinian people can feel like an exercise in futility, as if one is speaking into an empty void. Despite the overwhelming evidence of suffering, including videos, photographs, and firsthand testimonies, the status quo remains unchanged. Palestinians are forced to continually prove the severity of their circumstances, to document their misery and horror, in the hope of eliciting assistance and support from the international community. The burden placed on Palestinians to validate the gravity of their apocalyptic … Continue reading The truth that many don’t want to see; a daily struggle for everyone who fights for justice

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Sadness …

beatrizesmer

Dear, the source of my sadness eludes precise definition, much like the elusive notes of an opera. The thought of life’s fragile and precarious nature, and my yearning to cradle myself in the embrace of the past, fills me with a profound melancholy. The inability to do anything but retreat to my solitary bed deepens my sorrow. The list of sorrows stretches into eternity: strangers I’ll never know or touch, fields I’ll never lie in, stars I’ll never witness ablaze, memories I’ll never reclaim. The realization that those I cherish will continue to slip through my grasp like sand through … Continue reading Sadness …