My weapon of choice will blow your mind, emotions, and fears away. It is ignited by the deepest, most intimate force known to man, beast, and nature. My method of destroying all that does not serve me is love. I love you for all your mistakes and the tangled web of your past. But above all, I love you for teaching me how to love. Let those who internally ‘trigger’ you inspire your next move. If we all choose love as our fire and compassion as our armor, we have the power to shift the course of the world. When … Continue reading Weapon

I have moved, and with that change, I offer you my new address—not just the place I now call home, but the path I have taken to arrive here. If it helps, I could draw you a map, though your way and mine will never be the same. There are places I have been that I sincerely hope you never have to see, yet I wonder—had I not passed through them, would I be standing here now? So, I will share what I have learned along the way. If you ever find yourself lost in the underworld, weighed down by … Continue reading I have moved …

Tant de choses sont contenues dans un cœur au cours d’une vie.Tant de choses sont contenues dans un cœur en une journée, une heure, un instant.Au bout du compte, nous ne sommes totalement ouverts à personne—Ni mère ni père,Ni épouse ni époux,Ni amant, ni enfant, ni ami.Nous ouvrons des fenêtres à chacun,Mais nous vivons seuls dans la maison du cœur. Peut-être est-ce ainsi que cela doit être.Peut-être ne pourrions-nous pas supporter d’être si nus,Par peur d’un cœur sans cesse meurtri. Quand nous sommes jeunes,Nous croyons qu’un jour viendra une personneQui nous chérira et nous soutiendra toujours.Quand nous sommes plus âgés, … Continue reading Petit cœur…

“Write me,” I said. “Like your poetry.”He told me I was his poetry—The kind that poets like him suffered for.The object of his affection, maybe even his obsession. That I danced in his heart,Flew from his fingers,Changed him from the inside out;That I was the anchor tying his heart to mine. “This is what poetry does,” he said.“This is what you do.” ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading It Is Better To Be The Poetry …Than The Hopeful Poet

In the heart of Minas Gerais, where the sun kisses the ancient stones and the air hums with stories of yesteryears, I find myself on a narrow path. It winds through the hills, like the veins of an old heart, carrying memories etched in every cobblestone. Congonhas do Campo, a town nestled in time, wears its history proudly. Its streets, worn smooth by countless footsteps, echo with the whispers of lovers, dreamers, and weary souls seeking solace. The houses lean in, as if conspiring secrets, their walls adorned with faded murals of saints and sinners. And there, in the midst … Continue reading The Heart of Minas Gerais

Ce soir, l’envie est simple : déposer des mots, laisser le cœur s’exprimer librement, dans sa justesse et sa beauté. Les pensées coulent doucement, semblables à des filaments portés par le courant, lorsque l’âme s’embrase d’une lumière intérieure. Alors vient le calme, cette paix qui s’ancre au plus profond de soi. L’âme respecte, écoute et s’abandonne dans une douce sérénité. Plus de peur, juste la joie pure, le bonheur qui se fond dans l’infini du ciel. Être soi, pleinement, sans entrave, dans une harmonie sincère et apaisée. Cette sensation est aussi délicate qu’une étoffe de soie, une caresse infusée de … Continue reading Paix

I would tell you my namebut that is not who I amI would show you my face;So close your eyessee my graceBecause I am notmy smile,Or my frownI am neither thethings you lovenor everythingYou hate I am my favorite booksAnd the moviesthat give me hooksI am my favorite colorsAnd all myice cream flavors I am the songson my replayAnd the wordsI often not sayI am my ‘I love you’And my prayers to God too I am the journeysI long to makeBecause I am notwhere I am fromBut I amwhere I am goingI hope you would liketo be there too…❤ Continue reading Journey

Wait for me once; as you fall asleep keep me there, and I’ll try to be there, to dream with you an eternal sleep – not one of death and destruction – just of our escape, only our escape of a sinner world we once loved to hate as it sold us sort of value and faith. Just wait for me; as you close your eyes, let me be the last scenery that fills your world as we expire, and through our imperfection we’ll seek to find our perfect alignment with nothing tangible if not everything. Wait for me, please, … Continue reading Wait…

En la quietud de la noche, cuando el viento susurra entre las sombras, el eco de mi corazón se funde con la melodía de la naturaleza. He desaprendido el tacto de otro ser, pero el recuerdo de sus caricias perdura en mi piel, como un suave susurro en la brisa. En la profundidad de mi ser, late la esencia ancestral que me conecta con el universo, con el eco de antiguas leyendas que resuenan en mi ser. Soy el viento que acaricia los árboles con la misma suavidad con la que él solía acariciar mi rostro. Soy el lobo que … Continue reading La Noche Y El Viento

Before I love you completely, I will first love your hands—your nails, the scars that resemble sewing lines, mending your body cautiously in an attempt (this time, not failed) to build the perfect human being. First, I will love your tree-branch arms, which transfigure into rivers filled with fury, rushing swiftly toward the end—while I am still in the early missteps of my first steps. I will love every detail, every drop of sweat. I will love every apology, every explanation—every demand, every contradiction. I will love every fruit, every flower—and every thorn. Why not? I will love every single … Continue reading August, 2015