Tag: mother

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Threads of Resilience

beatrizesmer

There are women who have walked against the wind, their steps etching defiance into the fabric of time. Their footprints, invisible yet indelible, trace a lifetime of courage—a dance with gales that threaten to unravel them. Their eyes—oh, those eyes—are like uncharted oceans. Deep, mysterious, holding secrets whispered by ancient tides. Within their irises lie shipwrecks of lost dreams and sunken hopes, yet they shimmer with the promise of undiscovered lands. And love? Ah, love transforms them. Some change their skin, shedding old layers like autumn leaves, hoping to fit into the contours of another’s heart. But love can be … Continue reading Threads of Resilience

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A Nest of Love and Memory

beatrizesmer

I keep thinking about all the things I love, from the warmth of people to the rhythmic ticking of clocks. It’s as if I want to gather everything I cherish, every word that has ever touched my soul, every moment that has peeled back the layers of my heart like an orange, leaving it exposed and vulnerable. I want to collect these fragments and weave them into a nest, a sanctuary I can call home. My mind races with thoughts of what I would add to this nest if I could. There are so many things: the taste of a … Continue reading A Nest of Love and Memory

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Mother

beatrizesmer

A beacon of love and understanding, come, indulge in the tales of my untraveled journeys, bring forth red ink, the hue of life’s essence, ink that mirrors the pulse of existence, vivid and real. Mother, run your gentle fingers through my hair, for my soul yearns to wander, to explore the unknown, my mind, a vessel of memories not yet lived, thirsty for the promise of discovery, longing for the open road. When you return, ascend the steps to our abode, each one a testament to the rhythm of our lives, I will learn them by heart, as I yearn … Continue reading Mother

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Mother II

beatrizesmer

Mother, I carry within me the weight of unburied pasts, memories that linger like shadows in the night. Some nights, your daughter feels as if she is tearing herself apart, the pain and sorrow threatening to consume her. But in the morning light, she finds the strength to piece herself back together, to heal the wounds that still ache. I may be a mosaic of broken pieces, but I am also a masterpiece in the making. The scars I bear are a testament to the battles I have fought and the resilience that resides within me. I may not have … Continue reading Mother II