Sonnet XXVI, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I lived with visions for my company 

Instead of men and women, years ago,

And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know

A sweeter music than they played to me.

But soon their trailing purple was not free

Of this world’s dust, their lutes did silent grow,

And I myself grew faint and blind below

Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come⁠—to be,

Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts, 

Their songs, their splendours⁠—better, yet the same,

As river-water hallowed into fonts⁠—

Met in thee, and from out thee overcame

My soul with satisfaction of all wants⁠—

Because God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame.

Breathe

A poem I read and listened to the other day, that resonated deeply. Unavoidably.


Breathe, by Becky Hemsley

She sat at the back
and they said she was shy,
She led from the front
and they hated her pride.

They asked her advice
and then questioned her guidance,
They branded her loud
then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition
they said it was sad,
So she told them her dreams
and they said she was mad,

They told her they’d listen
then covered their ears,
And gave her a hug while
they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it
thinking she should,
Be the girl they told her to be
best as she could,

But one day she asked
what was best for herself,
Instead of trying
to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest
and stood with the trees,
She heard the wind whisper
and dance with the leaves,

She spoke to the willow,
the elm and the pine,
And she told them what she’d
been told time after time,

She told them she felt
she was never enough,
She was either too little
or far far too much,

Too loud or too quiet,
too fierce or too weak,
Too wise or too foolish,
too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing
surrounded by firs,
And she stopped…and she heard
what the trees said to her,

And she sat there for hours
not wanting to leave,
For the forest said nothing
it just let her breathe.

Prece de Cáritas

Deus nosso Pai,
que Sois todo poder e bondade,
dai força àqueles que passam pela provação,
dai luz àqueles que procuram a verdade,
e ponde no coração do homem a compaixão e a caridade.

Deus,
dai ao viajante a estrela Guia,
ao aflito a consolação,
ao doente o repouso.

Pai,
dai ao culpado o arrependimento,
ao espírito, a verdade,
à criança o guia,
ao órfão, o pai.
Que a vossa bondade se estenda sobre tudo que criaste.
Piedade, Senhor, para aqueles que não Vos conhecem, e
esperança para aqueles que sofrem.
Que a Vossa bondade permita aos espíritos consoladores, derramarem por toda à parte a paz, a esperança e a fé.

Deus,
um raio, uma faísca do Vosso divino amor pode abrasar a Terra, deixai-nos beber na fonte dessa bondade fecunda e infinita, e todas as lagrimas secarão, todas as dores acalmar-se-ão.
Um só coração, um só pensamento subirá até Vós,
como um grito de reconhecimento e de amor.
Como Moisés sobre a montanha,
nós Vos esperamos com os braços abertos.
Oh! bondade, Oh! Poder, Oh! beleza, Oh! perfeição,
queremos de alguma sorte merecer Vossa misericórdia.

Deus,
Dai-nos a força no progresso de subir até Vós,
Dai-nos a caridade pura,
Dai-nos a fé e a razão,
Dai-nos a simplicidade que fará de nossas almas
O espelho onde refletirá um dia a Vossa Santíssima imagem.

overthinking

Not because of the mistakes themselves, but eventually I had to adapt my behaviour in order to be able to manage the consequences  or the outcomes of the consequences of those mistakes. In some cases the new adapted behaviour made me more seasoned, tougher, smarter... in all cases, they broke my soul in a lesser or grander degree... but I guess even broken glass can shine.

Thoughts

I'm thinking about how many millions of people speak up without thinking even once about whatever it may be in advance... yet, in my attempt to not make that same mistake, I only managed to silence my voice so much, that now my thoughts are nothing but a rainbow scrambled in smoothie of tones, while I comfortably fenced myself out and away from everyone, consciously kept in my private little world. Yet, I'm not convinced I'm in the wrong, but I'm sure I'm not right. C'est la vie. :)

Enquanto seu silencio ecoa,
eu me pego vulneravel, perguntando ao vento:
Quando terá começado?

Essa necessidade infundada,
esse querer tao latente,
e essa importancia tao desmerecida
da sua pessoa esclarecida,
mas cujas palavras iniciais tao queridas,
sempre vem acompanhadas
de futuras memorias tao doloridas... 

O tempo passa,
e a gente envelhece,
e ao contrario do esperado,
muito embora a maturidade o desenrolar do destino nao me tivesse negado,
a fragilidade voce de volta trouxe,
e sem expectativas percebidas,
permiti que vc viesse a minha mesa,
que outrora lindamente vazia,
para minha querida solidao a mais perfeita companhia,
passou entao a contar com risos e conversas excitantes,
perdidas para sempre no percalco deixado pelo vazio do baque surdo,
da sua saida tao fria e dilacerante.

E agora onde antes havia um coracao partido,
ha tambem uma alma estilhacada,
e sonhos novamente nao correspondidos.

18 Months

Have you ever been caught in a storm, at the sea?

You get soaked first, no matter how fancy is the waterproof in your clothes.

You perk up and you can see a little glimpse of light, the shore which is far away but reachable still. 

So you try to get grip of the oars, but your hands are wet and the tides are strong, and sooner than later, they take the oars away.

And before you can make any sense of the situation, your boat gets flipped, and along with the tides everything goes, even your hopes. 

The under current sweeps you away and seem to be caught between half drawning and being half conscious. 

The tides are dark and you can't make a thing.

But survival instinct is a thing so you kick your legs and you move your arms. You thrust yourself upwards, you aim for the surface, a glimpse of the sky. 

And kick and you fight and when you finally make it, the storm is still there.

More water splashing on your face. The rain is heavy and the drops are sharp. Waves crash on you and there's no one to see you scream. There's no one to hear you cry. 

Exhaustion wins over and you want to move but it fails you.

You start drowning and as water fills your lungs you give up the fight. 

And you realize that before you wash up on the shore, the current will drag you down and drown you.

And you realize, you ever only had yourself but now you no longer do.

So... You just... Stop.

Gaslight

They painted a world

Bright and colorful

Sprinkled with smiles 

And subtle melodies

Nice gestures 

And pleasant policies 

But in just one concealed blob,

The colours started to fade

And the smile turned two-faced.

In that just one blob,

The melodies turned to a deafening silence

And the gestures, a trap in the dark.

The truth now so hard to see

Was placed in my hands;

A sharp knife to cut myself free,

but which instead bled my hands and sliced my feet.

It's no wonder

That I feel as if I can't breathe.

My deepest wish,

that I would simply cease to be.

Blinding silence

Oh, my heart, my dear heart,

What is it that you deeply crave for?

Whose face and voice and warmth do you miss so?

Oh, dear child,

For you are only a child in your soul--

This is an answer you know all too well!

For very few things escape the eye of a child.

Only they forget easily...

And isn't oblivion the truest of the blessings?

I crave what we always craved:

The warmth and scent of a skin 

That ports us so easily into a dream;

The voice and words of a mind

That is as fascinating as it is kind;

The eyes, the smile and the face,

That steals our control over our own heart's pace;

We always loved the rain on a cold grey day

But isn't it thrilling

When our soul is filled with a non-ordinary passion,

that can only come from a corresponded feeling,

like flowers on the Spring of May?

Oh, dear child,

I beat sadly, but hopeful,

Because we've farred, 

we lived and loved,

and we risked it all.

We took a gamble, 

and seized every moment of it,

Ever so reliant, ever so capable.

You did so well,

You gave your best,

No matter if all we had left

Was a tragic tale

And a little remain of ourselves.

As well as the knowledge

That we miss that half that no one else resembles,

Not even that half itself.

Still, we remain,

Praying for a good dream,

Every now and again,

Perhaps even in this life's stream.

(written on March 10th)

Identificar o azul do céu

o dourado do sol refletido na superfície da água

é um luxo 

que certos Estados de alma não nos permite admirar.

Mas quando nos falta a visão

ou mesmo olfato e audição-- 

O tato nos permite lembrar

por meio de uma singela brisa fresca 

ou uma gota de suor ou ressecamento de frio

de que nada dura pra sempre e que o universo,

assim como a vida, é imenso demais 

fazendo de nós um singelo grão de areia

na beira dessa praia
ora abençoada, ora amaldiçoada,
que se traduz em nossas vidas.