I suppose I always wanted what Dante Alighieri spoke of, “L’amore che muove il sole e l’altre stelle.” It’s not that I am a hopeless romantic, but rather that I have always yearned for a love so profound, so powerful, that it could move the stars themselves. There is something indescribably compelling about the idea of a love that transcends the ordinary, that reaches beyond the mundane confines of everyday life. This love, imbued with the essence of the universe, capable of moving celestial bodies, is the kind of love that I have craved. It’s a love that doesn’t merely … Continue reading Dante

It’s striking, isn’t it? Humanity takes pride in splitting the atom, unraveling the mysteries of the universe, yet we still grapple with the simplest act of sharing bread. We marvel at our scientific achievements, but often overlook the fundamental human compassion that binds us. To truly progress, we must learn to divide not just atoms, but also the essence of kindness and generosity. For in the act of sharing, we discover the true power of our humanity. 🌍❤️🙏🏾 ©️Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Sharing

“I woke up in anger. No, the world does not please me. Most people are dead and don’t know it, or they live with charlatanism.” And love, instead of giving, demands. Those who like us want us to be something they need. Lying brings remorse. And not lying is a gift the world doesn’t deserve. The truth is a burden, a gift that few appreciate. Perhaps that is why I wake up in anger, with my chest swollen with indignation that words cannot contain. It is a silent scream, a quiet revolt against the hypocrisy that permeates every corner of … Continue reading Cholera

I emptied my spaces so as not to commit the same mistakes or nurture old anxieties. Stripped of myself, I revealed my failures, my insecurities, my temperamental outbursts, my fragilities, without fearing the harsh truth. Driven by my own will, I rebuilt myself with joys, recycled my disappointments to laugh at myself, at my craziness. Renewed by my own essence, I am half full and the other half waiting for new experiences. I, a reading of myself, now read myself entirely, without the fear and shame of knowing who I am… Letting go of the past is an act of … Continue reading My own

In the silent corridors of my heart, I have wandered alone, not through empty rooms or deserted streets, but within the intricate tales of love. Each story, a world unto itself, has been both my sanctuary and my solitude. In these love stories, I have found myself enveloped by the echoes of emotions, walking hand in hand with shadows of what might have been. Every love story is a universe where loneliness and intimacy intertwine, where I have danced with the ghosts of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. In these narratives, I have been both the protagonist and the observer, … Continue reading — Have you ever lived alone?— Yes.— Where?— In some love stories.

It’s curious how certain figures in history have had their names attached to things that rarely reflected who they were in life. Take Sappho, for instance. From the scraps and fragments handed down over the centuries, we know she was bisexual, at least by today’s understanding of the term. She was married to a merchant named Cercylas and had a daughter named Celis. Despite all the wonderful love poems to women that she wrote, legend has it that she killed herself by jumping off the Leucadian cliffs for her love of Phaon, a village fisherman. In the 19th and 20th … Continue reading Sappho

There is a single message saved in my inbox, a treasure from one of my favorite poets. In it, he writes: “Throughout the earth let dead lips congregate, out of the depths spin this long night to me as if I rode at anchor here with you…” — Pablo Neruda, Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu. These words, nestled within the confines of my inbox, echo a timeless resonance. They carry the weight of ages, bridging the chasm between the past and the present. Neruda’s voice, immortalized in ink, reaches out across the expanse of time and space, … Continue reading Pablo Neruda

The undeniable poetry of it all… The way the light kisses the snowberry as if for the last time, gentle and fleeting, yet infinite in its grace. The way the dewdrop clings desperately to the leaf, embracing its ephemeral existence before it surrenders to gravity. The way two winged ones share the same fragile branch, a delicate dance of balance and trust. These moments, small and profound, make me want to live better. They inspire me to bow in reverence, to weep for the beauty that surrounds me, to sing the song of existence with all its highs and lows. … Continue reading The Undeniable Poetry of Everything

Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us. In the quiet corners of our hearts, let us release the weight of unreciprocated affection. For in holding on, we only burden ourselves with the shadows of what could never be. To forget with generosity is to embrace the freedom that comes with letting go. It is to understand that not all hearts beat in harmony, and that is okay. We must cherish the love we have given, even if it was not returned, for it is a testament to our capacity to feel deeply and to give selflessly. In … Continue reading Let us Forget …

I am the first comma in a sentence that refuses to wait for a period to conclude the paragraph. I am tender with ellipses, for I am remade in continuities. I never end, for even sorrows pass, not needing a conclusion, but a re-establishment. I no longer suffer from the syndrome of unfinished stories. I am frivolous with episodes, for we live by chance. And if we do not wait for new arrivals, we will not allow ourselves, we will not find our meaning. My identity has its crises, for what I desired yesterday, I am not even sure exists … Continue reading My Identity