Tag: poetry

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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

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O País Real e o País Oficial – Ode ao Brasil de Verdade!

beatrizesmer

“Não é desprezo pelo que é nosso, não é desdém pelo meu país. O país real, esse é bom, revela os melhores instintos; mas o país oficial, esse é caricato e burlesco. A sátira de Swift nas suas engenhosas viagens cabe-nos perfeitamente. No que diz respeito à política, nada temos a invejar ao reino de Liliput.”– Machado de Assis Em meio às ruas vibrantes e aos sorrisos genuínos, encontra-se o verdadeiro coração do país. É nas mãos calejadas do trabalhador, no olhar esperançoso da criança e no abraço caloroso dos amigos que reside a essência da nação. Este país real, … Continue reading O País Real e o País Oficial – Ode ao Brasil de Verdade!

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Eternal Whispers

beatrizesmer

In the peaceful corners of your existence, let me reside. Fold me gently, like a cherished letter, and tuck me into the warmth of your shirt pocket. Carry me with you, a silent companion through the tapestry of your days. Let me be the graphite in your pencil, the vibrant hues on your palette, and the resonant chords of your piano. Place me by the window, where the sun kisses the earth, and tend to me with the tenderness of daily care. Shield me from the harsh winter rain, and frame me in the moments that adorn your walls, your … Continue reading Eternal Whispers

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Embracing Vulnerability

beatrizesmer

In moments of solitude, I find myself stripped of the armor I wear daily. The confidence that often cloaks me is but a facade, a shield against the vulnerabilities that lie beneath. There are countless nights and days when the only solace I seek is the warmth of an embrace. To be held, to feel the gentle reassurance of another’s presence, is a comfort I cherish deeply. It is in these moments that words become unnecessary, and the simple act of being held speaks volumes. There are times when the weight of my worries is too heavy to articulate. In … Continue reading Embracing Vulnerability

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Embracing Heritage

beatrizesmer

Pronounce your name with confidence. Tell them where you come from with pride. Be proud of your roots. Don’t you dare make excuses for who you are. I stand tall, my heart swelling with pride as I pronounce my name with unwavering confidence. “Beatriz,” I say, letting each syllable resonate with the strength of my heritage. I come from Brazil, a land of breathtaking beauty and vibrant culture, though still affected by the scars of colonization and enslavement, I stand tall, for my roots are deep and strong. I am a proud descendant of the Zulu people, warriors and visionaries … Continue reading Embracing Heritage

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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

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Marks of Time

beatrizesmer

In the moments of reflection, we come to understand that time, with its relentless march, leaves its signature upon each of us. These marks, delicate and intricate, are the silent storytellers of our lives. Some are mere whispers, light and simple, noticed only by the discerning eyes that pause to see, to truly see. They tell tales of fleeting joys and gentle sorrows, of moments that brushed past us like a soft breeze. Yet, there are other marks, deep and creased, etched into the very fabric of our being. These are the marks that lay bare our vulnerabilities, raw and … Continue reading Marks of Time

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The Philosophy of Love and Desire

beatrizesmer

Love, they say, is blind, a force that defies reason and mocks the wisdom of philosophers. Yet, beneath this veil of mystery lies a truth as clear as the morning sun: our choices in love and desire are the mirrors of our deepest convictions. Imagine a person standing at the crossroads of their desires, each path illuminated by the light of their fundamental beliefs. The one they find sexually attractive is not a mere coincidence but a reflection of their innermost philosophy. It is as if the soul whispers its secrets through the language of attraction, revealing the essence of … Continue reading The Philosophy of Love and Desire

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Traveler of the Skin

beatrizesmer

My skin, as ancient and rooted as the ocean’s pulse that guided a history of homesick hearts to strange lands, bears the marks of time and journey. It is as vast as the cracks formed between two broken continents, a map of memories and scars that tell tales of voyages and discoveries. No, my skin is not my own; I am merely its traveler. Each line and mark are witnesses to past lives, to loves lost and found, to dreams that faded and hopes that blossomed. I am a pilgrim, navigating this vast territory of flesh and history, feeling each … Continue reading Traveler of the Skin

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Writing in the Rain

beatrizesmer

Written In a rainy Sunday It’s raining here, and the wind doesn’t want to stop knocking on my window. I love the rain, but I still can’t understand why I write every time it appears. Maybe because, if you know how to listen to the rain and the silences, they have their own words. Or maybe, because it also falls on your indecipherable thoughts, while I’m here convincing myself that, no matter how much something can tear us to shreds, or pieces in a trunk, or even like skeletons in a closet, we will never be completely destroyed. I write … Continue reading Writing in the Rain