Tag: writing

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Wisdom and Awareness: A Conversation

beatrizesmer

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a yearning for understanding, and said, “Show me how.” I tilted my head, a soft smile playing on my lips, “Show you what?” His voice was but a whisper, “The wisdom, the awareness, the ability to see the whole picture without words… those blissful eyes of yours, always in awe, always in love, quick to smile. You’ve got problems too, but how?” I paused, my gaze drifting to the horizon as I pondered his words. Then, with a gentle sigh, I turned back to him, “I don’t think I can show you, … Continue reading Wisdom and Awareness: A Conversation

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Forgiveness and a Peaceful Heart

beatrizesmer

How do I forgive my father? Perhaps it happens in the quiet solitude of a dream. Do I forgive him for the times he was absent, too often, or even forever, when I was just a child? Maybe it’s for the times his anger took me by surprise, or for the unsettling calm when anger was nowhere to be found. Do I forgive him for choosing to marry, or not to marry my mother? Or for deciding to sever their union, or for letting it persist in its imperfect state? And should I absolve him for his extremes of affection … Continue reading Forgiveness and a Peaceful Heart

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A Love from Afar

beatrizesmer

I am a love that hails from distant lands, where the seeds of nostalgia are sown and bloom in the heart’s fertile soil. I am a love that is both unsteady and inconsolable, a tempest of emotions, clothed in the dual attire of anxiety and joy. I am a paradox, a love that is seldom yet common, a love that is a dreamer yet grounded in truth. I am the sun, radiant and warm, and the palm, steadfast and enduring. I am a love that is always reliable, always legitimate, a beacon of constancy in the ever-changing tides of life. … Continue reading A Love from Afar

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The Language of Souls

beatrizesmer

Do not cast me into the shadows of ordinariness, nor chide me for the absence of it. When my words form the declaration of love, let your gaze meet mine, for in that exchange, the language of souls transcends the spoken. Listen, not with ears but with the heart, when I dare to ask for your affection in return. It is in these moments that the bridge between two spirits is built, and my soul reaches out for yours. I am not a closed book but an open page, fluttering in the winds of vulnerability. Do not mistake my openness … Continue reading The Language of Souls

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Compassion

beatrizesmer

It is a simple refrain, echoing in the void: “Not my child, not my community, not my world, not my concern.” Yet, amidst the chorus of detachment, there emerge the silent sentinels of compassion. They who perceive the unspoken pleas, who understand that the cry of one is the cry of all. In their hearts is etched the indelible truth that we are but custodians of a collective future. These guardians of humanity stride forth, undaunted by the magnitude of the task. For them, there is no other, no stranger, no foreign soul. There is only ‘us’—a singular pulse in … Continue reading Compassion

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The Transformative Return of Love

beatrizesmer

In the quiet solace of passing days, love took its leave, a silent thief in the night, departing without a trace. It wandered through the wilderness of the unknown, through the thicket of uncharted hearts, and in its journey, it shed its old skin. When love returned, it was not as it once was. It looked upon me with new eyes, eyes that had seen the dawn of distant horizons and the dusk of forgotten lands. Its hands, once familiar, were now those of a stranger, reshaped by the embrace of novel experiences and tender moments that I had not … Continue reading The Transformative Return of Love

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 The Alchemy of Fear

beatrizesmer

Yes, I have stumbled, faltered, and found myself face down in the dirt. My failures are many, and my fears, like shadows, stretch long in the evening sun. Yet, within the scattered debris of my attempts, there lies a testament to my unwavering resolve. My journey, though marred by sputters and dust, is a mosaic of a soul yearning for transformation, a heart beating with the rhythm of hope for a healthier tomorrow. Fear, that cunning alchemist, turns today’s dread into tomorrow’s drive. It whispers of the embers that smolder within the hearth of my spirit, a silent siren calling … Continue reading  The Alchemy of Fear

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Poetry

beatrizesmer

I stand amidst the whispers of an unknown origin, a genesis shrouded in the cloak of winter or the meandering paths of a river. I am the seeker of voices that are not heard, words that are not spoken, and silences that are not quiet. It is not in the clarity of speech that I am called, but from the cobblestone alleys of dreams, from the intertwining limbs of night’s darkest trees. In the tumult of blazing embers or in the solemnity of my solitary journey, I find myself faceless, a phantom to the world, yet profoundly touched. This touch—it … Continue reading Poetry

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The Arrival of Poetry

beatrizesmer

And it was at that age, an unmarked chapter in the book of life, when poetry arrived. It came unannounced, a silent whisperer seeking me out, a wanderer from realms unknown. Was it birthed from the cold embrace of winter, or did it emerge from the murmuring depths of a river? Its origins were a mystery, cloaked in the enigma of the elements. I cannot recount how or when it found me, for it was neither a voice that called out nor a word inscribed upon the air. It was not the hush of silence that precedes the storm. Rather, … Continue reading The Arrival of Poetry

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The Labyrinth of Language

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In the labyrinth of language, I find an escape, a strange dialect that I employ to lose myself. There are days when the world’s caffeine is but a drop in the ocean of my fatigue… I pen my thoughts to anyone who would listen. This is the act of externalizing, but where does the internal reside? The internal is a cacophony of silence, a canvas of pre-art, a cosmos brimming with pre-things awaiting their names. The internal is an identity that I have crafted. At times, I write to materialize the ineffable. No matter its nature, it can always be … Continue reading The Labyrinth of Language