We have confined the divine to the hallowed halls of churches, to the extraordinary acts of healing, to the miraculous and the marvelous. We strive fervently to summon celestial fire in our worship, yearning for a tangible sign of the sacred. Yet, in our earnest pursuit, we often overlook the gentle whispers of grace that surround us daily. God’s favor is not solely in the grandiose displays of power but in the tender moments that touch our souls. It is in the warmth of the sun that kisses our cheeks, a reminder of the light that guides us. It is … Continue reading The Divine in Everyday Moments

He walked with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, each step a gentle glide as if he were floating just above the ground. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and every so often, he would pause to take in his surroundings with a serene gaze. It was as if he existed in a bubble of tranquility, a world of his own making, untouched by the chaos around him. When I finally mustered the courage to approach him, I was met with a kindness that felt both profound and effortless. His eyes held a depth of understanding, and his smile was warm, … Continue reading The Serene Gardener

“Bukowski”He quoted Bukowski knowingly to a blonde girl who thought he was reciting lyrics from a love song. It irked me—if not outright pissed me off—to hear him speak with such honesty and belief in every word, only for her to receive it so vacuously. I gazed at the back of the couple seated two rows ahead of me on the bus. I saw the bearer of the honey-rum voice. I watched him pinch the girl’s nose playfully and recite more lyrical “love spells” from great writers. She just stared blankly and laughed at his attempts to impress. Yet from … Continue reading Year: 1987

Flesh of your flesh—let it be a sacrament.I shall take you whole, to devour in place of your spirit,which I so long to reach.Let it be your lips that quiver,in syncopation with your heart.Let your heart pulse with the longing of your soul. Let us be full—and empty—with the fast of our bodies upon our lips.We shall be a cycle of desire and satiation.And when we have been torn to pieces,we will, at last, be free to be whole. ❤️ Continue reading Whole

It’s the aroma of a cherished dish, evoking memories of family gatherings and laughter echoing through time. It’s the serene comfort of reuniting with old friends, where words flow effortlessly and silence speaks volumes. It’s the beloved garment that no longer fits, yet holds the essence of who we once were. The melody of a favorite song, the poignant lyrics that resonate with our soul, and the lingering scent of a partner’s cologne, all transport us to moments frozen in time. The gentle glide of a pen on a napkin, the soft, cushioned feel beneath our fingers, grounding us in … Continue reading Nostalgia

There was a time when mirrors held more weight than memories. When the shine of new shoes or the glint of a phone screen felt like proof of progress. In those days, the world whispered that value came wrapped in packaging—beauty, possessions, status. And many believed it. I did too. But time, with its gentle erosion and quiet revelations, has a way of peeling back illusions. As you get older, you will understand more and more that it’s not about what you look like or what you own. It’s all about the person you’ve become. Not the curated version. Not … Continue reading The Becoming: A Chronicle of Quiet Truths

“O que a vida quer da gente é coragem.” — disse Guimarães Rosa, com a sabedoria de quem escutou o sertão e entendeu o coração humano. A vida não se explica, ela se sente. Vem com seus mistérios, seus ventos bravos e suas calmarias inesperadas. E diante dela, não há manual — há apenas o gesto de seguir em frente, mesmo quando o chão parece longe dos pés. Coragem, então, é esse ato silencioso de continuar. É acordar com esperança mesmo depois da dor. É amar sem garantias. É ser inteiro num mundo que tantas vezes nos pede metades. Guimarães … Continue reading Coragem

The soothing wind is coming from the plain, carrying with it whispers of change and renewal. As I sit to write my September poem, the breeze dances softly around my ears, a gentle reminder of nature’s embrace. Each gust brings with it the vibrant colors of the days, painting the world in hues of hope and promise. Spring is on the horizon, ready to drape my country in its lively palette. The air is filled with anticipation, as blossoms prepare to burst forth in a symphony of colors. I love September, for it is a month of transformation, where the … Continue reading September’s Gentle Wind

I know now, after sixty-two years old, that the finding and losing, the forgetting and remembering, the leaving and returning—never stops. It’s not a cycle. It’s a current. Life doesn’t loop; it flows. Sometimes gently, sometimes with the force of a flood. And in that flow, we are carried through moments that shimmer with clarity and others that dissolve into fog. We find people, places, pieces of ourselves—only to lose them again. We forget names, promises, even dreams. But then, unexpectedly, we remember. A scent, a song, a silence brings it all back. I’ve left homes, jobs, lovers, versions of … Continue reading Another Chance: A Chronicle of Becoming

The morning unfolded like silk—quiet, golden, and impossibly tender. My hand, still curled around the warmth of another, pulsed with a rhythm not my own. And in that moment, I learned something ancient and soft: love is not a grand declaration. It is a breath. A hush. A presence so delicate it nearly disappears. Love, I discovered, lives in the margins. It slips between subway doors, in the fleeting glance of someone departing—perhaps forever. It hides beneath our feet, in the dust of yesterday’s footsteps, in the things we forget to notice. A folded page in a book. A melody … Continue reading Chronicle of August 30, 2013