Tag: hope

Leave a comment

August something, 2012.

beatrizesmer

A date that seems to float in the ether, untethered by specifics, yet heavy with meaning. Tonight, you are called to return to yourself, to that pure essence that once existed free from the imprints of others. Imagine a time when you were a child, or perhaps lost in a dream. In those fleeting moments, you were unburdened by the world’s expectations. You knew that having what you wanted felt good and made your life better. There were no issues of worthiness, deserving, or doubt. There was just peace and contentment. Babies are born knowing to seek comfort, love, connection, … Continue reading August something, 2012.

1 Comment

Revealing the Heart

beatrizesmer

“How do I write about this? Where do I begin?” I ask, my voice a whisper of uncertainty. I gently place my hand over my chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of my heart. “Reveal your heart,” I say softly to myself. “Give it a safe place to bleed.” My heart, a vessel of emotions, yearns to be heard. It carries the stories of my joys and sorrows, my triumphs and defeats. It holds the essence of my being, the raw and unfiltered truth of who I am. To write is to open the floodgates of my soul, to let the … Continue reading Revealing the Heart

Leave a comment

Apology to Oneself

beatrizesmer

In our hearts, we often find ourselves tangled in the web of apologies. We whisper “sorry” for our existence, for our limitations, for our very essence. We apologize for our illnesses, our absences, our words spoken in haste. We drown in a sea of regret, feeling the weight of every missed message, every unspoken sentiment, every moment of longing. We extend our apologies to the world, yet we forget the most crucial apology of all – the one owed to ourselves. We must learn to forgive ourselves for the times we wore masks to please those who never truly cared. … Continue reading Apology to Oneself

Leave a comment

Translating Pain

beatrizesmer

In the dim light of the room, shadows danced on the walls, mirroring the turmoil within her heart. She sat by the window, the world outside a blur of raindrops and memories. Her voice, a fragile whisper, broke the silence, “How do I translate this pain into words?” Tears welled up in her eyes, each drop a testament to the unspoken agony she bore. He stood beside her, his presence a silent anchor in the storm. His gaze, tender yet resolute, met hers. “You can’t,” he replied softly, his words a gentle balm to her wounded soul. “Some feelings just … Continue reading Translating Pain

Leave a comment

Derrama Generosamente Tu Amor

beatrizesmer

Derrama generosamente tu amor, como el sol que no escatima en sus rayos dorados, abrazando cada rincón de la tierra. Deja que tu corazón sea un manantial inagotable, donde cada gota de afecto se convierta en un río que fluye sin cesar, nutriendo todo a su paso. El futuro, ese enigma que se despliega ante nosotros, depende de la capacidad de amar con todo el ser. Porque en el amor reside la magia de transformar lo ordinario en extraordinario, de convertir los sueños en realidades palpables. Ama sin reservas, sin miedos, sin condiciones. Ama con la intensidad de una tormenta … Continue reading Derrama Generosamente Tu Amor

Leave a comment

Prose on Love’s Vastness

beatrizesmer

In the quiet chambers of a small heart, a vast love resides. It is a love that defies the confines of its vessel, spilling over and traveling with the wind. This love, so immense, descends gently, loosening the pomegranate’s grip, and falls into the depths of two wandering almond eyes. It ascends with the dawn, finding solace in the tender dimples that greet the morning light, and in its journey, it forgets the way back to the familiar comforts of house and name. This heart, though small, holds a love that is boundless. It is a love that knows no … Continue reading Prose on Love’s Vastness

3 Comments

When I grow up, I want to be an artist.

beatrizesmer

In the mess of my childhood, I often found myself lost in the colors of my imagination. The world around me, with its vibrant hues and intricate patterns, whispered secrets of beauty and wonder. I dreamt of capturing these whispers, of translating the language of the universe onto a canvas. As I grew, so did my dreams. They blossomed like wildflowers in the meadow of my mind, each petal a stroke of inspiration. I envisioned myself standing before a blank canvas, my heart beating in rhythm with the brush in my hand. The colors would dance and swirl, creating a … Continue reading When I grow up, I want to be an artist.

Leave a comment

Memoire Oubliée

beatrizesmer

Tes yeux sont si profonds que j’y perds la mémoire. Your eyes—their irises like twin galaxies—hold secrets older than constellations. They are wellsprings of forgotten tales, where the past and present entwine, and the future hesitates, unsure of its own script. I imagine tracing the contours of your gaze—the delicate arch of your brow, the crescent moons etched beneath your lashes. Each blink, a shutter capturing fragments of existence: stolen kisses, whispered promises, the scent of rain on cobblestone streets. And within those depths, memory unravels like a vintage tapestry. Perhaps it was a moonlit soirée, where laughter swirled like … Continue reading Memoire Oubliée

Leave a comment

Echoes of August

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of August, when the sun hangs low and shadows stretch across the land, there exists a melody—an ancient refrain that transcends time and memory. It is a song born from the heart of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, etched into the very atoms that witnessed devastation and rebirth. August tunes, like a weathered gramophone, wind its spindle through the years. It replays a tearful symphony—an elegy for lost souls, for cities turned to ash, for the fragile threads of humanity severed by the unforgiving hand of war. The notes, once vibrant, now carry the weight of history—a requiem whispered … Continue reading Echoes of August

1 Comment

Yearning Under the Moon’s Gaze

beatrizesmer

It felt as though someone had rifled through the intimate drawers of my soul, exposing my vulnerabilities under the harsh glare of reality. I would often find myself at the window, gazing at the miniature cars below, swirling like dry leaves in the wind, while I silently reread letters that had long lost their voices. In those moments, I yearned for wings instead of limbs, to break free from the confines of my existence and soar between the towering buildings. Your fiery eyes burned into me, surrounding me with an intensity that I couldn’t escape, yet I chose not to … Continue reading Yearning Under the Moon’s Gaze