In the Arms of Music

Every night, I allowed myself a moment of music that was just for me. This solitary pleasure, while seemingly barren, is anything but sterile when it reconciles our being with life. The music transports me to a realm where pain doesn’t cease to exist but shrinks, diminishes, and becomes calmer and deeper, like a stream that transforms into a lake. In these moments, I find a tranquil retreat from the chaos of the day. The melodies wrap around my soul, easing the jagged edges of my worries and smoothing the rough patches of my heart. Each note, each chord, brings … Continue reading In the Arms of Music

Prose on Love and Nightfall

She speaks with a tenderness that cradles each word, as if she holds love itself within her mouth. This love, delicate and precious, is like a fruit ripening with every whispered syllable, or a daughter nurtured with every breath. Her words are a gentle caress, a promise of the love she carries, ready to be born from her lips, unaware of the night that surrounds her. For a woman who is truly loved, nightfall never comes. Her world is illuminated by the warmth of affection, a perpetual twilight where shadows cannot linger. In her presence, time stands still, and the … Continue reading Prose on Love and Nightfall

Self-Love

I cannot make you stay. I cannot make you love me. But in the quiet moments of solitude, I have found myself. I have fallen in love with this skin, this body that carries the weight of a thousand poems. Each day, I embrace this blackness, kissed by the sun every morning, and I am content with the way the Universe has crafted me. Flaws and all, I am perfect in its eyes. I stand tall, knowing that my worth is not defined by your presence or absence, but by the love I have for myself. In this journey of … Continue reading Self-Love

Little Bird

Once, you were made of the sky. Do you remember that? You were boundless, infinite, soaring above the constraints of the earth. Before they told you what you were supposed to be. Before they destroyed your elegant wings. They tricked you, chaining you to an idea. They built a prison from their expectations, branding you with labels, with pain. Yet, deep inside, the sky still whispers to you, reminding you of the freedom you once knew, the expanse you once embraced. In that memory lies your truth, untainted by the chains of others. Reclaim your wings, break free from their … Continue reading Little Bird

Often

We often let precious encounters slip by, comforting ourselves with the thought that there will be a ‘when’ in the future. Yet, the truth is that time offers no such guarantees. It is a fickle, unpredictable entity, full of limited misfortunes. Instead of waiting for that elusive ‘when,’ turn it into today. Reach out to that old friend you haven’t seen in ages. Share a moment, rekindle the connection, and cherish the present.🙏🏾❤ ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Often

Safe Port

May every soul find a love that warms the heart and brings solace to this chaotic world. Let there be moments of unexpected joy amidst the mundane routines, a person to anticipate and long for. Among the multitude, there is a singular name that stands out—a verse of unparalleled beauty, a melody never forgotten, a dance partner for every step. May we have someone to greet the morning with, and dream with as night falls. A hand to hold through trials, a shoulder to lean on in times of need, and an embrace that makes life worth living. Together, we … Continue reading Safe Port

The Violence of Silence

When I declare, as I often do, that prose isn’t about anything, I mean it’s not about anything but the violence it holds. The violence of silence, the violence of suffering, the violence of turning away from another’s pain—each a form of silence in its own right. Rumi speaks of entering the rose garden and making peace with the thorns, and I am in that garden, striving to reconcile with the inherent violence of language—of the poem. I am trying, trying to articulate my own violence, my silence, my suffering. Each one encapsulates the other. When I say prose isn’t … Continue reading The Violence of Silence

Carta Ă  minha mĂŁe, que vive em mim

Hoje faz dez anos que vocĂŞ partiu, mĂŁe.Dez anos que o cĂ©u ganhou uma estrela e eu ganhei uma saudade que nĂŁo tem fim.Mas hoje, mais do que a dor, quero falar do amor.Mais do que a ausĂŞncia, quero lembrar da presença.Mais do que o adeus, quero celebrar tudo o que vocĂŞ me ensinou. VocĂŞ me ensinou a olhar o mundo com delicadeza.A cuidar das pessoas com o coração inteiro.A respeitar o tempo das coisas, mesmo quando ele parece injusto.VocĂŞ me ensinou que paciĂŞncia Ă© força, que silĂŞncio tambĂ©m fala,e que o amor verdadeiro nĂŁo grita — ele acolhe. Com … Continue reading Carta Ă  minha mĂŁe, que vive em mim

A Thought…

To claim that religion is necessary to restrain one’s behavior is to unwittingly confess that, absent divine surveillance and celestial reward or punishment, one’s moral compass would spin wildly into chaos. It is a startling admission—not of piety, but of latent barbarism held at bay only by metaphysical threats. Such a stance does not elevate religion; it debases the individual. It suggests that virtue is not chosen but coerced, that goodness is not intrinsic but externally imposed. This argument, often deployed in moments of rhetorical desperation, reveals more about the speaker than about the divine. It is the last refuge … Continue reading A Thought…

Masterpiece

I do not want to be a ghost haunting my own life. I refuse to become a shadow, a mere echo of someone else’s dreams, lost in the pursuit of mediocrity. I will not allow others’ opinions to overshadow the essence of who I am. Everyone is my equal, and I will never forget that. Perfection, to me, is a myth, and I do not desire to find joy in others’ flaws. I reject the role of the know-it-all, for humility and gratitude are the true markers of wisdom. I embrace the sun and the rain with open arms, fearing … Continue reading Masterpiece