Tag: love

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The Poetic Universe

beatrizesmer

In the land of a poem, time is but an illusion, a mere specter that holds no sway. It is a place where the chasm between hunger and its satisfaction is non-existent, where the line separating joy from sorrow is blurred. It is a sanctuary where I can reach out to you, in a manner more profound than the mere touch of skin. You can trace your fingers along the contours of my verses, feel the weight of my thoughts as they rise and fall with the rhythm of my heartbeat. It’s a dance of words and emotions, a ballet … Continue reading The Poetic Universe

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The Birth of Art in Adversity

beatrizesmer

Art, my dear, is not a privilege bestowed upon the fortunate, nurtured in the cradle of affluence, nor is it the offspring of tender mothers and doting fathers. It is the phoenix that rises from the ashes of hardship, birthed in the narrow lanes of ghettos, in the heart of favelas, amidst the stark nakedness of poverty. Art does not discriminate. It does not segregate based on the color of one’s skin, the race they belong to, or the creed they adhere to. It is a generous spirit, a universal language that speaks to all, transcending man-made boundaries and biases. … Continue reading The Birth of Art in Adversity

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Being Strong

beatrizesmer

In the quiet core of your being, listen. Listen to the salted caramel voices of the women within you. Their whispers are the echoes of a thousand generations, a symphony of strength and resilience. Their stories, heavy with wisdom and experience, paint vivid pictures on the canvas of your skin. This skin, it’s thick. Thick like the barriers we’ve crossed, the obstacles we’ve overcome. Thick like the borders we’ve birthed, the lines we’ve drawn in the sand to claim our space in the world. Thick like the borders we’ve burned, the constraints we’ve shattered in our quest for freedom. Yet, … Continue reading Being Strong

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A Simple Reminder

beatrizesmer

Deep in your soul, you’ll discover a truth that’s as profound as it is simple: you are your own sanctuary. Yes, you can seek solace in the warmth of another’s embrace, intertwine your fingers with theirs, but the echo of loneliness cannot be silenced by mere physical presence. An empty house remains empty, no matter how many guests you invite, if the owner never returns. Sometimes, the hero of your story is you. There will be mornings when you’ll rise from your bed, your heart heavy as a stone sinking into the ocean’s depths. Yet, your legs will not falter, … Continue reading A Simple Reminder

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Tears…

beatrizesmer

Tears that streamed down my cheeks and vanished abruptly on my lips. I wept for the first time in my youth, on the initial day of detachment from beloved ones, in my teenage years, for the first love’s deceit… for the initial blemish on my face. Subsequently, I refined my weeping. I shed tears for hatred, disillusionment, disappointment, despair, agony, fear, and yearning! I also chuckled, enchanted, and elated. I wept out of loathing for those who mercilessly perpetrate atrocities against our kin. I sobbed in disillusionment and disappointment at those who maliciously betrayed my trust and all the love … Continue reading Tears…

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On Any Given Sunday

beatrizesmer

In the quietude of late Sundays, the world dons a hue that defies definition. It’s the color of storm clouds quivering on the horizon, their charcoal gray promising both tempest and release. The kettle sings its lonely song, brewing coffee for one, while the television screen flickers with nothing good to offer—a monotonous hum in the background. An empty house stands sentinel on this domestic day. The dry wind stirs along the empty streets, weaving through abandoned alleys like a thousand restless ghosts. It carries secrets whispered by forgotten memories, rustling leaves and discarded wrappers in its wake. And there, … Continue reading On Any Given Sunday

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The Bridge of Laughter and Tears

beatrizesmer

In the quiet hours of our shared existence, we dream of a bridge—a fragile span woven from laughter and tears. It is not a bridge of stone or steel, but of ephemeral moments that bind us. One day, we will laugh until our bellies ache, our eyes crinkling at the corners. Our laughter will echo across the chasm, filling the void with joy. We’ll share secrets, silly jokes, and memories—the kind that linger like the scent of rain on warm earth. And then, when the world turns somber, we’ll cry. Not the quiet tears of solitude, but the kind that … Continue reading The Bridge of Laughter and Tears

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The Imprints of Human Connection

beatrizesmer

I want to write about the language of touch, the silent conversations held in the clasp of hands, the secrets whispered through fingertips. I want to write about the way a mother’s hand can soothe a child, the way a lover’s touch can ignite a spark, the way a friend’s comforting pat can ease a burden. I want to write about the domestic dance of marriage, the rhythm of routine, the melody of shared moments. I want to explore the growing void that can creep into the most intimate of spaces, the separate beds in a shared room, the unspoken … Continue reading The Imprints of Human Connection

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Dust and Ancestral Echoes

beatrizesmer

In the whispers of the dust, I hear the echoes of my ancestors, a soft murmur that speaks of the village that cradled their dreams. It is within this fine silt that I find the fragments of my being, piecing together the mosaic of my soul. The hues of the earth paint me as a wandering tree, my roots submerged in the memories of a time when water was the cradle of life. With each gust of wind, I am scattered to the corners of the earth, a spectral dance of particles lost in the vastness of the sky. Yet, … Continue reading Dust and Ancestral Echoes

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The Dance of Seasons

beatrizesmer

I am changing, a perpetual metamorphosis. Like a leaf caught in the whims of time, I twirl through the seasons. Each turn brings a new hue, a fresh face to the world. In spring, I unfurl like a tender bud, reaching for the sun. My veins pulse with life, and I wear the green cloak of hope. The air smells of possibility, and I sway with the breeze, eager to embrace the warmth. Summer arrives, and I bask in the golden glory. My edges crisp, kissed by the sun’s fiery lips. I am vibrant, alive, and my laughter rustles through … Continue reading The Dance of Seasons