Tag: writing

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Lighting me  

beatrizesmer

I have been starved of love by those I thought would always be there. The ones I trusted to fill my heart with warmth and light, instead of leaving me in darkness and despair. But in the absence of their love, I found parts of myself I never knew existed. I discovered strength and resilience I never knew I possessed. I have been humbled by these experiences, forced to confront my own vulnerability and the harsh realities of life. I know what it is like to seek light and only find darkness. To yearn for love and comfort, only to … Continue reading Lighting me  

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People X Cities

beatrizesmer

People are akin to cities, each harboring enigmatic alleys, vibrant gardens, and clandestine rooftops where secrets dance in the moonlit hours. Just as daisies sprout courageously between the cracks of concrete, so do our innermost vulnerabilities and joys, often concealed from the world. We are but enigmatic metropolises, offering mere postcard glimpses of our grandeur, showcasing only the polished squares and the majestic skylines. Yet, love, like a seasoned explorer, unravels the tapestry of our souls, uncovering those hidden realms within another, even the ones they themselves had not fathomed, even the ones they hadn’t deemed beautiful. It is in … Continue reading People X Cities

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Let us cast aside the yoke of servitude

beatrizesmer

In the fleeting hours, where moments slip like sand through grasping fingers, it is time to break free from the shackles of servitude to the relentless march of time. Let us abandon the role of martyred slaves and instead embrace the intoxicating liberation that beckons us. Be ceaselessly drunk, not on the passing minutes and hours, but on the heady elixirs that stir the soul. Whether it be the crimson nectar of wine, its velvety depths swirling with stories untold, or the enchanting verses of poetry that dance upon the mind like whispers of the wind. Or perhaps, let us … Continue reading Let us cast aside the yoke of servitude

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February 6, 2018, at 1:07 PM ·

beatrizesmer

In the hushed whispers of time’s embrace, there exists a tale, a symphony of love and passion, once adrift, almost losing its way home. It danced upon the edge of forgetting, forgetting the essence of life’s purpose, the essence of now. Not the past, not the future, but the present, the very moment we breathe. We are but wanderers in the labyrinth of our own making, unable to change the footprints we’ve left behind, uncertain of the path that unfurls before us. Yet, in this uncertain dance, today and now are the only truths that hold weight. If someone holds … Continue reading February 6, 2018, at 1:07 PM ·

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My path, my destination …

beatrizesmer

I walk the path of survivors. It’s a path etched with the echoes of resilience, a journey I’ve known since my first breath, and one that intertwines with the rhythm of my beating heart. For much of this odyssey, I was veiled in darkness, stumbling through the unknown, grappling with the unseen. Each step was a gamble, a dance with uncertainty, and often I faltered, straying from the path I sought to tread. Obstacles loomed like giants, casting shadows that threatened to engulf me, and it seemed as though the very fabric of the world conspired against my every move. … Continue reading My path, my destination …

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I cry in Yoruba, but I pray in the name of the Universe

beatrizesmer

I cry in Yoruba, the language of my ancestors, the language that carries the weight of my history and the stories of my people. I cry for the struggles and the pain that we have endured, for the injustices and the hardships that have been inflicted upon us. I cry for the loss and the longing, for the dreams that have been shattered and the hopes that have been dashed. But when I pray, I do so in the name of the Universe. I call upon the energy and the power that flows through all living things, the force that … Continue reading I cry in Yoruba, but I pray in the name of the Universe

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Life

beatrizesmer

Life is a symphony of cycles, a dance of symbols that speak to the depths of our being. It is a truth that whispers to us through the changing tides and the shifting seasons, revealing itself only to those with eyes to see and hearts to understand. Like the clouds that obscure the rising sun, our thoughts can often shroud the fire of our souls, casting shadows on the light within. But just as the sun eventually breaks through the clouds, so too can our true selves emerge from the darkness, shining brightly for all to see. In the ebb … Continue reading Life

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Rain washing me away

beatrizesmer

There’s a spark beginning to burn, a flame flickering to life in the depths of my soul. It ignites feelings in my heart, a warmth that spreads and envelops me in its comforting embrace. It rushes through me like claps of thunder, echoing in the chambers of my being, shaking me to my very core. I can feel the rain as it falls, a gentle patter at first, then turning into a torrent, a deluge of emotions washing over me. It cleanses me, washing away my grief, my pain, my sorrow. It purifies my spirit, leaving behind a clean slate, … Continue reading Rain washing me away

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Made of sugar

beatrizesmer

In a world made of sugars, she longed for the taste of other poisons, believing that this oath would lead her to find happiness, a way to escape. Her desire was to evoke the most delicate blue in her eyes, to rediscover innocence in the smartest way, with no time for want. She immersed herself in a single word, one that could encompass all letters and sounds, to fill the void that demanded tears, yearning, and hope. This word, a universe in itself, held the power to explain everything that eluded her, encompassing her entirely. She crafted worlds, seeking other … Continue reading Made of sugar

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You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me

beatrizesmer

You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me. I weave their words and actions into stanzas and verses, creating a masterpiece of their essence and soul. Before they even speak, I can feel the rhythm of their being, the cadence of their existence. Every glance, every gesture, every breath becomes a line in the symphony of their presence. I find beauty in the way they move, the way they speak, the way they exist in this world. And so, I paint them with my words, capturing the essence of their being in the … Continue reading You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me