When did the skin on our bodies, the difference in our voice, or the direction our heart takes us decide whether or not we should have human rights? That question echoes like a drumbeat through history—steady, haunting, unrelenting. It was not asked when ancient hands first reached out to help a stranger. It was not asked when children laughed in languages unknown to one another, yet understood through play. It was not asked when love bloomed in defiance of borders, norms, or expectations. But somewhere along the way, someone decided that pigment was power. That accents were ammunition. That love—if … Continue reading Our Humanity

When it is but it is not love, it masquerades as passion, a fervent flame that consumes rather than warms. Some of us love badly, or perhaps we mistake the intensity for love. This love implodes, folding in on itself, devouring its essence. It turns the sweetest wine into the bitterest poison, misbehaving in the sanctity of shared spaces. It drinks deeply from the well of insecurity, kisses strangers with lips that should be faithful, and returns to your bed at ungodly hours, reeking of the world outside. This love asks about your past, not out of curiosity, but jealousy. … Continue reading August 28, 2014

When longing no longer found solace in waiting, farewell whispered its silent departure. My body, once a vessel of vibrant life, now stood empty, a hollow shell devoid of its Soul. In this void, I poured my loneliness into words, each syllable a fragment of my solitude. I became an urgent poet, driven by the pain that time had bestowed upon me. Every moment of suffering transformed into verses, each line a testament to the ache that had become my constant companion. Through this pain, I found my voice, a voice that spoke of longing, loss, and the relentless passage … Continue reading A Poet’s Journey

Some days, she dons the armor of a warrior, her spirit fierce and unyielding. She faces the battles of life with a strength that seems unbreakable, her eyes burning with determination. On these days, she is a force to be reckoned with, a beacon of resilience and courage. Yet, there are days when the weight of the world bears down on her, and she feels like a broken mess. Her heart aches with the scars of past wounds, and her spirit falters. Tears may fall, and doubts may creep in, but even in these moments of vulnerability, there is a … Continue reading The Warrior Within

Listen, my dear, Life, like a fragile bird, perches upon your shoulder. It is precious, fleeting—a delicate dance of moments. You must grasp each one, every little whiff of existence that passes by. It will not be easy; certainty eludes us. Not now, and not in the vast expanse of your unimaginable future. But do not be surprised. Instead, embrace the stiff winds that sweep across your path, and ascend the lonely heights with courage. Remember your name. Etch it into the fabric of your being. Never turn away from the bright course simply because it is hard. No, my … Continue reading Watch Everything

Every morning, as the first light spills gently across the room, I want to rise with a heart so full it nearly bursts. My goal is simple, yet profound: to wake up feeling overwhelmingly thankful for the kind of life I’ve created for myself. Not just grateful in passing, but deeply, soulfully aware of the beauty I’ve built—brick by brick, choice by choice. I want to stretch into the day knowing that peace lives in my bones, that joy isn’t something I chase but something I’ve cultivated. That the people around me, the work I do, the quiet moments and … Continue reading Grateful 

A idade não é um problema. Por si só, ela é apenas uma medida do tempo que você testemunhou passar — uma prova viva de que você sobreviveu até aqui. E isso, por si só, já é um feito digno de respeito. Há contas que ninguém mais vai pagar. Há bocas — pequenas, carinhosas bocas — que você ajudou a criar, que precisam ser alimentadas, beijadas. Elas vivem em rostos com olhos que só enxergam em você a fonte de sustento, de afeto, de direção. Há caminhos que precisam ser percorridos, mesmo quando não há acostamento, nem área de descanso. … Continue reading Idade

She woke up with the weight of the world on her shoulders and a silent soul. The coffee cooled in the cup while the city outside roared, demanding presence, posture, courage. But that day, courage was a luxury. And strength? A distant, almost mythical concept. Still, she rose. She dressed as if putting on armor. Applied lipstick like painting a war flag. And walked out the door. Because she had learned, through stumbles and scars, that you’re not always strong — but you must look like it. You’re not always brave — but you must pretend. Not out of vanity. … Continue reading Blood in the Water

You sit alone with your bleeding heart,In the silence of your screams—Not the kind that echo through rooms,But the kind that tremble behind closed eyes. You wonder how you will ever be whole again.The world feels like a mosaic of shattered glass,Each piece a memory, a wound, a whisper. So caught up in the parts, you forget the sun.You forget that light still exists,Even when your hands are too full of fragments to reach for it. You don’t realize… Those times your heart has been brokenWere not endings, but openings—Cracks where the light could seep in. Those moments you’ve had … Continue reading A Beautifully Broken Soul

Celebrating my birthday with myself In the year 2000, time was a mischievous thief, stealthily pilfering the vibrant threads of my youth. My stories, though seemingly counterfeit, held the truth of my beauty in girlhood. I was a wildflower, braless and free, dancing like dervish petals in the spring breeze. My smile was as refreshing as lemonade, and my dresses were short, embodying the essence of pink and warm honey. I was a collection of bones, fragile under the weight of insecurities, yet radiant with the glow of youth. Today, my chin is softer, my hands bear the marks of … Continue reading Letter to the Young BeatrizWritten in 2010