The kitchen is silent, except for the bread. It sits there, a dense, unformed mystery. How many slices in a bread? I hold the knife and feel the vertigo of choice. If I cut it thin, I am a miser of moments, stretching the wheat into a transparent ghost of itself. If I cut it thick, I am a glutton for the present. The bread doesn’t care. It only waits for the edge of my will. It depends, you see. It always depends on the hand that holds the steel. I think of the old screen door. It is a … Continue reading The Weight of the Slices

Sou tomada pelo ir e vir das coisas; das pessoas, de cada sopro de vida que entra e sai sem pedir licença. É um movimento de maré: o que sobe e o que desce, o empurrão e o recuo, esse ritmo que não é meu, mas que me habita. Lá fora, os carros correm com uma urgência cega, um fluxo contínuo que não para para ser olhado. E os “olás”, e os “adeuses”… tudo o que acontece nesse intervalo, nesse entre-lugar que fica espremido entre o início e o fim. Cada pedaço de tempo é marcado com uma precisão cruel, … Continue reading O Entre-Lugar

I have chimeras in my eyesBright with thirty candlesFrom sex jumps seedsExploding locomotivesI have hoarse gutsIn a rosary of my faithMy muscles are so fragilTo this network of intriguesMy Afro-latino soul criesImplodes, rips, squeezesAnd in my sleeping fingers wanderThe moon in my dreams winsSo what?👣🇧🇷 ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Quimeras

The word “grief” is too small. It is a word for a broken glass or a lost dog. It is not a word for the way it was when I was seventeen. At seventeen, the world was very old and I was very tired of it. I carried a thing inside me that was not meant to be carried. It was a dark weight, and then it broke. It was a bad business. There was the blood and the muscle and the heart failing in the chest, the way a horse fails when its legs are gone. The dreams died … Continue reading The Geography of the Break

And that was how I fell. I fell for an eternity and yet with the brutal speed of a single heartbeat, dreaming entire lives, thick, heavy romances, in the half-second it took for the air to claim me. But the floor… the floor was a lie that never arrived. I fell, instead, into the breathing geometry of those I have loved. They were the ones who had once slid into my life with the silence of shadows, fitting against my skin as if they were the missing pieces of my own mystery. I looked around and saw them: the glorious, … Continue reading The Fall

Nossa história não acaba; ela se demora. É um sopro, um vento que carrega segredos que o tempo ainda não teve coragem de contar. Somos viajantes cansados, sim, mas esse cansaço é uma crosta. Carregamos o peso de sóis e luas que não pedimos, mas que se infiltraram nos poros, tatuando a alma com o rigor da existência. Estamos machucados até o osso. E as cicatrizes? Não são marcas de dor, são constelações. Um mapa de carne para quem teve a audácia de estar vivo. Partes de mim fugiram. Foram procurar um equilíbrio que não existe, esse tal de centro … Continue reading O Nascimento do que Já Era

Un sommeil réparateur m’avait échappé pendant plus d’une semaine.Face à un autre “anniversaire”,Mon esprit courait au-delà des faits jusqu’à l’opinion,Au-delà de la raison jusqu’au délire,Au-delà de la logique jusqu’au ressenti. Là, je me tenais, confronté au miroir,Osant poser à l’image qui me fixait la question suivante.“Eh bien, tu as soixante-six ans maintenant, qu’as-tu ?” Mes sourcils commencèrent à tressaillir,Des vêtements amples semblaient soudain étroits,Sentant le début d’un mal de tête dû à une pression basse.Visiblement mal à l’aise, rancunier face à l’interrogation du miroir. Quelle impétuosité, pensais-je.Intrusif à ma vie privée,Insensible et provocateur.Le miroir cherchait certainement à me désarmer… ©️ … Continue reading Miroir

Je ne me suis jamais sentie spirituelle dans les bancs d’église, seulement perplexe et confuse. Je ne crois pas en un Dieu qui hait, critique, filtre ou rabroue. J’adore l’Amour et la Paix qui apaisent les douleurs de la vie… Mes prières sont entendues au plus profond de la Terre, cette connaissance – Mon sacrement depuis la naissance. La lumière à travers les arbres, bourdonnant en vibration, comme des essaims d’abeilles… Je termine mon retrait de l’église des hommes, dans ma cathédrale de séquoias… ❤ ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Amour & Pax

Let me hold up the mirror to my darkest moments, unafraid to meet the reflections of my struggles and scars. In this unflinching gaze, I uncover seeds of transformation. Let my soul’s whispers—its confessions and longings—echo not just through the chambers of my heart, but into the depths of my being. Teach me to listen, not with ears alone, but with an open spirit, attuned to the symphony of my life—the discord and harmony, the crescendos and stillness. Teach me to embrace myself wholly, not just in the warmth of sunlight but amidst the tempest within. In the stillness between … Continue reading Father,

There are some people I believe are just inherently good people who deserve the best in life, and to see them feeling good makes me happier than anything I can think of. A lot of the time it’s easier to be jealous of someone when they’re happier than you. But there are a select few people in this world (who I could count on both of my hands) who can make me so happy, not with what they say to me or give to me, but with the simple act of smiling or displaying their own delight…❤️ ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Good people