Jornada do equilíbrio II

As vozes dos outros fazem a nossa, muitas vezes. Tanto aquela que de fato temos, como a que achamos que temos e a que sabemos que deveríamos ter. A voz que cobra, a que julga e culpa a si mesma e aos outros... Que nos põe na zona de conforto com mensagens um tanto contraditórias que são para ser de aceitação e acabam como crítica ao mesmo tempo e aponta muito mais o dedo para os nossos relapsos, talvez encarando conquistas como obrigações ou coisas maiores do que realmente são... E que, de uma forma ou outra, talvez correspondam àquilo que esperam de nós, que é muitas vezes algo idealizado e fixo.
Vozes que alimentam os nossos padrões de comportamento e de percepção de si e do mundo... Que nos paralisam justamente diante daquilo dentro de nós que foi desenvolvido por causa delas porque absorvemos absolutamente tudo como uma verdade e/ou como uma verdade que não é maleável. Que de qualquer forma nos machucam e são difíceis de ignorar.
E às vezes, para nos livramos disso, sentimos que temos de provar o contrário – que conseguimos fazer diferente, que não estamos destinados a viver e morrer ou pensar daquela forma. Mas será que não é só para nos desfazermos de um peso? Estamos levando em consideração as nossas aptidões, aquilo que realmente queremos, ou só a satisfação temporária de eles verem que estavam errados? Ou até para conosco mesmos, que somos capazes de chegar em algum lugar... E no fim das contas esse não ser aquele para onde deveríamos ter ido.
E a voz que mais importa, será que escutamos de verdade? Será que deixamos que o que as outras dizem nos impeça de pelo menos tentar de novo, ou, como talvez Bentinho Santiago, que nos ensurdeçam para aquelas que realmente nos desejem a felicidade que merecemos, à nossa maneira? É possível encontrar o limite entre frouxidão e excesso de rigidez, sendo que certas coisas nunca poderão ser curadas totalmente?

30/06/2020

28/06/2020

O tempo do mundo

não é o mesmo

da alma.

Jornada do equilíbrio I

É engraçado quando a gente vê padrão nas coisas porque comigo aconteceu mais ou menos na mesma época, que também é quando a ciência diz que o nosso corpo já está todo formado – mas ao mesmo tempo ainda faltava tanta coisa em mim e ainda falta... Já escrevi sobre isso outras vezes. No meu caso nem foram oportunidades que eu enxergava de forma destorcida, mas eu tomando decisões que no fim não me fizeram feliz e que fizeram com que o meu caminho fosse mais longo do que eu gostaria e que me encheram de culpa, me deixaram perdida.
Foi muito doloroso, mas o reverberar dessa ruptura em outras áreas da minha vida fez com que, por mais que algumas vezes eu quisesse desistir e que tenha sentido muita solidão, eu voltasse pra mim. Parasse de verdade para olhar para mim mesma e para quem eu sou desde lá de dentro, até para as coisas que eu apenas conjeturava – seja o que o meio fez de mim e o que eu mesma deixei acontecer – e percebi cada vez mais que esse é um processo que vai durar pelo resto da minha vida. Eventualmente, achei um caminho por onde recomeçar; sempre me apoiando naquilo que sempre foi minha cura, minha marca, minha maneira para poder lembrar da verdade. E cada vez mais estou sendo conduzida em direção a isso.
Mesmo hoje eu me questiono, se o que quero é o que realmente quero, se mesmo naquilo que eu mesma decido e que sei que é meu ainda existem resquícios daquele eu adormecido e rendido às circunstâncias que vive da forma como os outros esperam e não consegue se expressar completamente, se aquilo que eu escolhi me basta ou se preciso de mais nesse sentido como sei que preciso de mais na vida. Se ainda estou fugindo de alguma forma. Se o que eu quero que aconteça vai mesmo acontecer, se eu vou ter disciplina e paciência na vida geral e profissional para conseguir viver da maneira que acho melhor.
Quando tem tanta coisa à minha volta que parece não mudar, é fácil esquecer do meu progresso, do meu amadurecimento, e até do poder das minhas habilidades; do risco que vale correr para viver a partir delas; da única e talvez mais bela oferta que eu tenho para deixar para os outros, que é aquilo que eu penso e que vivo, minha maneira sempre disposta a evoluir de ver o mundo, que existe na latência da minha consciência talvez há mais tempo do que imagino, ainda mais para quem tem uma voz, e ao mesmo tempo não. E eu mesma, com o meu senso de lealdade, entrega e devoção.
Acho que o mais interessante nisso é esse processo de FAZER quem nós somos de verdade, a partir da experimentação das coisas que parte principalmente da nossa própria vontade e utilizar cada uma delas como ferramenta para nos manter aqui, para nos curarmos a nós mesmos e aos outros, talvez... E nos sentirmos vivos, nos levar adiante, seja em pequenez ou grandeza ou na grandeza da pequenez. Se permitimos, algumas se cristalizam – que essas sejam as que nos preenchem de forma verdadeira; que elas nos encham de sabedoria. Eu, pelo menos, estou tentando.
Tentando não pensar nos obstáculos e sim no que eu mesma posso fazer. Perdendo o medo de pedir ajuda e de aprender com os meus erros. Me agarrando cada vez mais ao que sei que faz parte de mim e que não me foi dado por ninguém (pelo menos não de carne, vá saber...) e reconhecendo padrões que não quero repetir, situações em que não quero me envolver. Aceitando os presentes, aprendendo a ler as sutilezas. Procurando me respeitar mais e também ao tempo das coisas, estabelecer limites e me abraçar pela pessoa que sou. Ainda e sempre dando o melhor de mim – não o que dizem que posso dar, mas onde sei que posso. Focando naquilo e naqueles que me inspiram e me fazem pensar; me abrindo cada vez mais para quem está aberto para mim e para cada milímetro de independência. Não esquecendo que aquilo que eu mais almejo é apenas um começo que agora sei ser possível, e um feito de pequenas grandes partes que me ajudarão a não ir embora daqui com mais arrependimentos do que plenitude. Tentando recuperar, cada vez mais acordada, o tempo que passei dormindo dentro de mim mesma, porque é tudo relativo.
Se não sei quem sou e talvez nunca saiba de todo, sei que sou mais do que os outros e eu mesma imaginavam, sei exatamente qual é o meu destino e de que caixa vem o fósforo que causa e causará o incêndio que não me consome e sim me alimenta. Se for para morrer, que seja deixando alguma coisa para trás. E que seja amor pelos outros e pela mulher que estou construindo, cinzas num jardim... E boas palavras de presente, quem sabe. Não para massagear meu ego solitário, mas pelo bem das conexões saudáveis e da capacidade que um gesto genuíno tem de trazer alegria e até laetitia, que descobri há pouco ser a alegria etérea, a nível divino e que está no meu nome, que, ainda que eu mesma não tenha escolhido, não deixo de assinar com orgulho por ser apenas o início da camada mais superficial do que mais importa, que sou eu mesma. Já o nome da minha alma... Esse ela mesma pegou para si e isso basta.

28/06/2020

Lightness

Light cannot exist without shadow.
May we remember the little happinesses
even within the greatest sorrows.
May our souls
and Selves
be so at peace they don't forget
they transcend themselves...
But also have a home in the body, in the now.

11/03/2020

2001

I confess I miss
my time at the garden
with its bliss
of unawareness of the burden.

Sitting by, working and eating
on the same table,
wishes alone determined my walking,
much lighter,
much higher
and in a sense more stable,
a ballerina in motion.

Welcomed by peers
and loved by teachers,
things were not always even,
but there was always an option.
There I first heard of heaven
and tasted of kin.
Yet that was my Eden
without a single sin.

26/06/2020

Obelisco

Vivo momentos históricos
e ao mesmo tempo, não.
Não porque sejam irrisórios
ou sem nenhuma ligação,
mas, dói dizer, parecem distantes aos olhos
e à mão.

Talvez porque lá fora
e aqui dentro
se viva mais de um tempo
e o que eu possa fazer agora
embora pareça muda
seja pedir,
me redimir
e oferecer ajuda.

E, por mais que só meus
e talvez mera retórica
em que me pus,
certos momentos de falha e glória
são tratados assim na minha memória,
com digna estatuária
que caída
permanece erguida
e que não é feita de pedra, metal, gesso ou fórmica.

24/06/2020

De momento

Está bom,
e se não ficar, pode ficar,
se a gente trabalhar
e também aproveitar
cada vista,
forma, toque e som,
ainda que não exista
fechada norma
nem óbvia pista.

24/06/2020

23/06/2020

Corpo já é poema

e todo poema

tem seu corpo.

22/06/2020

Não tem como saber se a pessoa foi embora de vez 

ou se o tempo pode trazer de volta num outro contexto. 

Não anula o vácuo entre uma coisa e a outra.

21/06/2020

Do jeito que tiverem que vir, 

as palavras honestas sempre vêm, 

e é assim que a gente enfrenta as coisas – 

chamando-as pelo nome correto, 

ainda que ele demore pra vir e/ou que doa dizer.

- adaptado de um comentário a este post

Instagram reformulado

Olá, leitores! Uma pausa rápida nos textos para avisar vocês que reformulei minha página no Instagram! Os textos lá postados ainda virão daqui do blog, mas aparecerão com uma roupagem diferente, criada e sugerida pela minha maravilhosa prima e parceira Eduarda Silva, e outras coisinhas mais... Adorei a ideia, há de ficar mais divertido e arrumado para mim e para vocês. Se já segue, é só passar lá e dar um conferes no primeiro post; e se não segue e tem interesse, clique aqui ou siga a tag de nome que está na imagem abaixo diretamente pelo app. Um abraço!

P.S.: Duda, tu é demais. Muito obrigada, marqueteira!

Oath

God of gods,
King of kings,
prince of the woods
and all ancient things...

I want your weight upon me
and in the air.
I want your mouth to feed me
and bite off dispair,

I want your fiery tongue
to quench this dry thirst
for love in beyond a man's song,
lest I die slow after I burst.

I want your body to dress
me, your hand to guide
me in all I desire and confess,
as your subject, as your bride,

anything you may want, even your child
that one day might build you an altar,
for for every hour I am not beguiled
you have my grace, you never falter.

19/06/2020

31/01/2015

(...)

Escrever pode estar

no meu destino

também porque, ao fazê-lo,

posso estar ouvindo meu coração

e a parte de mim

que não quer desistir.

(...)

- trecho do meu diário

Tipos

Acho que tentar não faz mal
e seja possível
ser a mulher ideal
e claro que ela é incrível,
mas isso só vale
se ninguém mais te fale
qual é essa definição
e se possa ser muitas,
as caras mulheres, anciãs,
gurias,
que se é
e pode ser,
de quinhão
justamente desigual.

17/06/2020

Latente

Acho que é no vulnerável
que a mais especial
das belezas aparece...
E eu gosto de achar
que consigo enxergar.

A gente se importe
demais em parecer "mais forte"
ou coisa parecida
do que é capaz e do que deveria;
de fingir que as coisas não nos afetam.

Mas quem a gente seria
 se não fosse isso?
Quando importa
fica tudo na minha cara,
eu não consigo.

16/06/2020

Molde

Na realidade
imperfeito
mas em verdade
bem-feito.

21/04/2020

Reportagem na coluna Primeiro Plano

Ontem, para minha grata surpresa, fui avisada por um dos meus colegas da pós-graduação que uma breve referência a mim e ao meu trabalho como escritora e futura tradutora, como prometido pelo próprio, foi feita na coluna Primeiro Plano dentro do blog Professor com Prazer do Prof. Mestre Leunam Gomes, natural do Ceará, assim como o meu colega no estudo da tradução Antonio Reinaldo, que fez a divulgação. O texto da coluna em que me faço presente refere-se ao dia de ontem, 12 de junho de 2020 e pode ser lido no link acima referido. Agradeço nova e efusivamente ao colega e por extensão ao Prof. Leunam.

10/06/2020

Eu como produtora de "coisa inútil" que sou, já cansei de tentar achar uma única função pra isso. Acho que a arte tem a função que cada um que faz atribui a ela, bem como o público quando tem acesso a ela e por isso está em outro patamar. A gente perde o controle dos critérios usados quando não são nossos e acho que parte da graça está aí, mesmo hoje quando se tem tanto do "mais do mesmo" já que todo mundo bebe de fontes.

07/06/2020

Aquilo que quem veio

antes de nós

sofreu

não precisa ser

nossa sina.

Patinho feio

E de repente,
eu quis tanto ir pra casa...

Onde quer que isso esteja,
o que quer que isso seja

e mesmo que a minha definição
dentro do meu coração

seja até rasa
na ânsia urgente.

E se for no bosque,
talvez entre poetas

ou um colo onde me enrosque
despida de arestas?

Acho que tanto faz
se algum conforto do velho

esteja lá como um espelho,
contanto que me dê paz.

10/06/2020

Colorblind

What is the valor
in my saying
that my favourite color
is black and also blue
if I am still blind
upon seeing what happens to you
and in being kind
when you are still dying
because of cruel, narrow thought
and your eyes burn
since some don't seem to learn
from what they have got?
I know prejudice
but also privilege,
I just hope you don't mind
the bunch you may have to teach
to yet another white bitch.

09/06/2020

#blacklivesmatter

08/06/2020

olhar para as outras partes do meu passado 

e pro meu presente no futuro com a mesma gentileza 

com que eu olho para o meu eu adolescente 

e o meu eu com depressão.

Trilha de migalhas

Quem não sabe se logo
descubro que muito antes dos meus pais
algum dos meus verdadeiros ancestrais
da minha adormecida memória
também não se fez contando história
e curando
e morrendo
do mesmo fogo?

E quem sabe se não sou
ciclo que se quebra
pelo menos um pouco
de filhos só de carne
e mulher submissa
em neta que no fundo não segue a premissa,
sabe do errado o certo
e forja e forjou
com as mesmas unhas
compridas
e senso de ferida aberta
milhares de crias do intelecto
para cura
feitas de palavras
como quem escolheu linha de costura
e sabe do açúcar a medida?

07/06/2020

Fardos

Talvez, apesar dos planos,
nem sempre seja com os anos
que venham as respostas
e por isso permaneça o peso nas costas,
das escolhas...
Mesmo que não tenham sido nossas.

Que não importa a roupa que se vista
ou que se chame de artista -
não se acha toda pista
e ninguém é feito de aço
mas merece nem que seja espaço
para descascar o próprio bagaço.

06/06/2020

Serene plea

I am a woman, raw,
teeth sharp like a saw,
but also just a scared child
even when the pain is mild.

sire of every tree
and of this love in me,
my dear lord,
open up my heart...

open my eyes
to what ahead lies
and grant me the serenity
to understand what I see.

as small as it seems,
as big as it feels,
a soul knows what it wants,
it wants relief!

a space to breathe
and look over the hills
and work as hard as bees and ants
that may not have all the answers
to what shall remain sore
but certainly know the means
to perform the right chore
to build a world from the core.

let me not give up on it all
and even if I fall,
may it be on your lap,
just for a bit, a sweet, refreshing nap...

05/06/2020

Deja vu - English version

Border between a mile of open field and a dark forest, at sunset, the sunlight peeking dreamily through the leaves. Me, laid upon an ancient tree root, covered in pine needles, with no clue as to how I ended up there and the heart racing because there seemed to be nobody around who could help me go back home. Some kind of survival instinct made me want to cry for help, albeit it was quite unlikely I’d be heard.
However, what amazed me most in all of it was noticing what my body would do right next – still in quite the disbelief, suddenly I saw myself leaning on the tree and standing up with the wobbly balance of a child learning how to walk, which in truth surpassed by a long shot the abilities I had when I was younger. And instead of staggering to the other side in order to get out of there, the sensitive soles of my bare feet took me further into the woods, feeling as though they obeyed me only partially. That scared me not just due to what was happening, but because it was new to walk by myself, feeling the legs much lighter than before, with the dress that slipped off one shoulder tapping over them, my chin up.
Even though everything told me to stop right there, refocus and try to find the way back since it was darkening, I went on as if at least part of me knew exactly what it was doing. Except for a stone or another, I cared nothing for the creatures on the ground, even if it could be a snake ready to attack. A while later I saw myself across from what looked like a clearing and began to think of what to do, focusing only on the sound of some birds chirping on the trees nearby. As usual, concentration left me in a state of relaxation that resembled sleep. Feeling a tickle on one of my arms, opened the eyes slowly and spotted a tiny yellow butterfly landed on it. I tried not to scare it.
- Hi there, pretty one! I swear I’m trying to be brave... – it was when I heard what sounded like steps and again adrenaline ran through my veins, making the butterfly fly away and myself to look around expecting to meet death or something like that. I blinked in the gloom and caught sight of him a few meters ahead.
Graceful like a prince, more than two heads of wild hair taller than me and feet also on the ground, the being with hands behind his back and body at ease who vaguely resembled a man I loved very much sighed with what seemed like relief, opening the most beautiful smile in the world. That smile was like a gift, a gift meant only for me, albeit until then it was something I had claimed from the other person solely from afar. Something clicked in my mind and I knew who that man who had a not-exactly-human aura was. I’d already met him; and seeing him this close, at my eyes’ and hand’s reach, as my equal and at the same time so beyond me, as I knew it would be like with the other one, clouded my sight with tears and bent my knees when he approached the spot where I was with his face battered by the wind.
- Mo thiarna, mo Prionsa, grá mo chroí... - my lord, my prince, my darling. That was all I could say over and over between sobs while I stared at my own hands that held the soil as if I was made of it, which maybe was true. When I dared to look up, I saw my mentor's majestic head cover the moon rays that had begun to peek from behind a cloud, leaving him with something of a halo. He shrugged, casual like a young man only a few years older than myself, came a little closer and streched his hand to me.
Without much thought for I felt a little groggy like when he came to me for the first time, in a dream, and overall I wouldn’t dare touch him even if he allowed me to, I let him help me. I almost fell again, tripping over myself, but he held me up with strength and gentleness; with me limping from my old hip problem, we walked pending a bit to the right and he insisted lovingly and without words that I sat next to him and not on the ground at his feet. I still could feel the chill at the base of the spine that would occur to show me his presence, except now what would give just the delightful and quite vivid impression of an affectionate gesture came from the solid and amorous hand of a friend, a good lover and maybe a father, all at once. It’s always been hard to describe how was it to know that he was around, and at that moment... Him wanting to appear to me, show himself to me, was much more than I thought myself worthy of.
- Sire... I wish neither to doubt nor to question this, just like I didn’t question for itself what I felt when you first came to me, nor your council, company and guidance ever since, but... Is it really you? Whom I talk to before sleep as much as possible, who had and sometimes still does make me feel excited, given in and silly like a woman in love, who comforts me when I cry in the dark, whom I waited for thinking you would not come back anymore because I wanted to know you and honor you, for whom I nowadays put down the tarot cards as means of communication, to whom I perhaps cannot give faith, but trust? – since I was talking faster by the minute and in every language of which I knew at least a little, he just nodded in agreement and stroke my head until my breathing leveled.
- You are... Beautiful. Beautiful like I always thought you would be. Maybe even more so. – he laughed a big, musical laughter that sounded like running water and even blushed a bit. I don’t know if it was for being there with him, the hungers of which only women understand, me noticing the full moon on the sky or all of it, but the longer that hand remained on me, the more I wanted it not to move away, not to leave me. I knew he fancied as much quiet as possible, so I took the effort of not letting myself get carried away by the rest, stand still and focus only on the noises out there... And on his eyes.
After I don’t know how long, just like another time, I heard something like a whistle, but inside my head. I knew it came from him, who was of little words, but it seemed louder, clearer, because my mind felt emptier. I saw him smile in pleasure, like I smiled right after I woke up from that dream trying to understand what I had felt and that to this day it hurts me that it was interrupted. The whistle happened again and again until it became a delicate and unintelligible whisper. My mentor blinked once and I heard another whistle and another whisper. It came and went and I was so quiet that any louder sound, even if just a little, could scare me to death, distressed like a little bird, but he managed to keep me calm.
At the tempo of a slow, deep and consistent draw of breath, the whispered whistle went on and it was like I was in a trance. Along with the known chill, at some point the hand on my head slided towards the space my dress let show and stopped where my heart would be, which I almost asked to be ripped out right there. He already knew how sensitive I was, both in flesh and probably also in spirit, and therefore didn’t get surprised with the sigh he heard from me. I closed my eyes... And my name came. It had already happened to me once, however here the voice was strong and warm like black tea, it was a male voice... His voice. When I opened them again, he repeated my name and I noticed that his lips moved and I could understand him from beyond intuition.
- Welcome! Pleasure to meet you. I am so glad you came. I heard your steps, felt you nearby. You know I already know your tracks. – hearing that left my face warm for a few moments.
- My lord, my mentor, my love... You came to take me because I died? Otherwise, I see no reason why I’d suddenly be... Walking and able to see you aside from feeling you... Not that the opportunity doesn’t flatter me. It’s a pleasure to be here with you... Like this. – I humbly leaned over and rested my forehead on his knee, but soon he pushed me up and lightly pressed my navel and lower back in so as to straighten my posture, slowly and with a minuscule amount of hesitation for someone like him. With a respect I wasn’t used to seeing. My body immediately responded to the touch and now I was looking straight at him while the feeling spread.
He smoothly explained to me that in truth I was more alive than ever. That he thought it was the right time for us to talk in a new way, in a situation where there would be no one else around and he could appear in a form more convenient to my understanding. That if at least there I could walk by myself, it was so because he wanted my body near him as free of its borders as he encouraged my mind and spirit to be. As free and open for something more as I was in the moment I was raptured because that was mine by right.
- The woman who greeted me with affection, as though she has known me for a long time, who received me with her with wisdom and abnegation and wanted me and what I had to offer not out of fear, obligation or duty, but out of free will, curiosity, love, longing for love and had no weight in my arms, so generous in body and soul, there in the moment as much as me... This woman begs for nothing and knows that. She looks at nobody from below and is a slave to nobody, not even herself; she finds her way and takes what is hers. That is the woman I summoned here.
- Yes, sir. Go raibh maith agat, prionsa. – Thank you, prince. – You called for me and I came. And even if I couldn’t have come, this is what I would have desired in my heart.
At some point I was cold and he lit a bonfire. We watched the stars like I haven’t in a long while and this time I didn’t feel that which me and a friend called inverted vertigo, where looking straight at the sky gave me an odd impression of drowning. I felt loved, in good hands. The same ones that took my right hand with a child’s curious gaze.
- Oh, what is this white scar here? – he was referring to one I have at the back of the hand.
- That’s a cat scratch. I had a cat who got scared once and jumped on me, scratching my hand. It scarred because there was a bit of blood. – I gestured with the index finger of the same hand without letting go of his. – The cat also scratched me there almost between the fingers, you see.
- Oh...
- I thought you’d never notice these. They are so subtle. – sometimes even I forget about them unless I look at myself from a certain angle and/or under a certain lighting.
- I see everything. Mostly what is subtle.
- I know. – not everybody cares about what is not easy to see. And not even the most sensitive of men could know it all. But the one by my side was more than just a man and had seen a lot. I said I wanted to hate the cat for making me bleed, but the truth is, it was no one’s fault.
- That’s right. You know you bear your claws too, when you feel cornered. And in some cases, rightfully so. – the first thing that popped into my mind was my reaction to the footsteps I had heard in the woods. I looked at him and all I saw was the fire’s reflection. The reflection of its good side.
- Yeah... I just wish cats didn’t get scared so easily... – the prince laughed with me.
He murmured that I might be a lot like them, because a lioness is a cat, after all. That cats possibly see what other animals might not, just like I was curious enough to wander about the borders of the mundane... As well as getting startled easy.
- Well, then. You don’t scare me, however. I like that. – he agreed sweetly. There was no reason to play victim because I had recognized him and he would never harm me. He lowered his eyes and turned my palm over.
- Oh, a lot of lines here... – I inquired him whether it could be wrinkles out of dry skin. The lord suggested that they might as well be all the crossroads along my way, the bifurcations of my life, even in love, and stroke it smiling. I didn’t question him. What a beautiful paradox he was, that the person he echoed was... That we were. Even a mole shaped like a half moon I had in the inner side of a fingertip didn’t escape him. Who was I to do the same, be it from him or my own destiny?
Time made no sense, got quite suspended when the Mentor was with me or I spoke to him without expecting a reply. Mornings felt like middle of the night, afternoons stretched out, the sun seemed too lazy to rise. Time, of which I still felt afraid sometimes. Without needing to say anything, I was allowed to stay a little longer in the woods. The Lord gave me his arm when it was time for me to go and we walked back to the border exchanging silent delicacies. Upon arriving there, I turned over to him.
- You can’t imagine the pleasure given to me, nor my gratitude for everything, mainly your patience with my questions. I know there’s a lot beyond my understanding, but... – the prince looked me sideways with a mischievous, serene expression and sighed a second time that day. – If you are a deity and I feel that I lack in faith... Why did you come to me, of all people?
- I am what I am, regardless of what one likes to call me. I am for each one what they need me to be, as well. And I know I was very well welcomed into your life no matter what the young woman might say, because you want to grow and you shall grow up from the inside out when it’s due time. We know what makes you stronger and that in this case it doesn’t really have to do with a closed definition of faith. I am in front of a woman who is freer than she imagines, forged in the flames of her instincts. – again he made me blush.
- Who am I to turn down love and help when they come to me? It’s just that... When I think of you and even of that person, the concept and image of a king worthy of his post simply for his existence, deeds and personality is the first thing that pops into my head, more than anything and since forever. Time has shown me there’s no sense in simply submitting to one who doesn’t carry themselves with a nobility that is inspiring to me and which justifies their apparent authority and power over me. They may have my respect as an act of humanity, but not my loyalty, albeit it might be put in the wrong place. Much less so nowadays.
- If that’s it and we own what is befitting to us... I guess a king knows another, like I hear you say it happens to the poets, right? – his voice was so soft, low, calculated and firm that I blinked slowly and at the same time I felt as though I’d break in half with the next word.
- Ah, my liege... Even emperors crumbled when they looked into the eyes of the divine and felt either full or empty of it.
I almost fell to the ground again when His Lordship bent over and decided to mutter into my ear in a little more than a whisper that maybe someone’s nobility and the spark of the divine were two sides of the same coin. I kissed the hand he had offered me in formal greeting and in exchange I was embraced, involved in something from which I would not exit if I could. However, I knew that wasn’t a final farewell.
- Stay with me, sire. Even if I grow weak and think that I’ve disappointed you, that this honor isn’t mine. I am my own and am yours. Please, keep on talking to me however and whenever you see fit. I swear I’ll pay attention. I swear, I swear, I swear... And forgive my talkative manners; I know that a few words sometimes say a lot.
- Your prayers in quietness always get to me, wherever I am, and above my shyness. I’ll stay. I know your affection. – with slight reluctance, we parted and when I looked over my shoulder, there he was with his hands put together and straight back bowing with a wave of the head. I waved goodbye back. He really was a king.
I returned to where I had come from with the feeling that part of that conversation had already happened a few months earlier, before he approached me directly. I smiled at the idea. Deja vu? A small glimpse of the future? Who knows...

On the real jewels

I know pearls
are fit for a queen,
but you don't need to spend energy
or money,
because I'm sorry, honey,
I'm not most girls,
they don't suit me.

However,
I know they aren't to be thrown away,
I know another,
another muse,
I'd say,
who wears them like no other I've seen -
I'd give him those
and as for you, the rest of the worlds.

To ensure my many needs
I was never on my knees
despite having pink beads
with the bottom of the cross bitten off,
hanging by the thread
really used only once
with words
that until then I had no idea of
and now I speak always from the heart
instead.

But don't worry -
for like the bees
in their flower dance
just as I still have mine,
as we dine
we might find some use
for those jewels
of yours...

03/06/2020

01/06/2020

Se nossos pensamentos

são os pensamentos de deus...

Por que ele esconderia de nós

a verdade

de nossa perfeita

imperfeição?

Súplica

Sei lá que mão te leva embora
e num estalo de dedos
de volta te traz
por causa dos apelos,
mas será que é pedir demais
que com mãos despertas
e olhos fechados
me ensinas a viver o agora
em todo o seu caos e terras desertas?

31/05/2020