Tuesday, June 30, 2015

The little things

The path is the same, it seems. The same! But the little things, they change each day. Since I opened my eyes I can see the little things.That does not mean that I see them since I was born. That's not what I'm saying! They have been there, I know, but I did not see them, the little things. I see them now and it took a long journey, a long and difficult crossing, to see the little things along the path. 

I've walked this path every day for a while now. I had walked it before, occasionally. But I did not see the little things then. I'm sure they were there and I stepped on them, probably crushed and even killed a few, but I did not see them. 

My mother, I think, when she was around, saw the little things and tried to show them to me, but I did not see them. There was no time for the little things then. I was in a hurry, I had things to do, I was angry, I ran fast. No time for the little things. She found them on the air, up above, usually. The trees, the flowers, the birds, the skies... They can be anywhere. Now, I know. 

I appreciate what she tried to do, my mom. But there is a time for each one of us. And, then, it was her time, not mine. Her time to see the little things, to appreciate them, to savour them. Now it is mine. They are not up above, the little things I see. They are mostly on the ground, scattered, simple and beautiful. 

It was only when my heart expanded and I opened my eyes that I could see them on the same path I've walked every day. They are bright, luminous and shiny. They are leaves, green, new, brown, dead, dry... They are seeds and flowers, buds, blooming, dying, dead, colourful, alive... They are ants, working hard, determined, carrying the weight of the world, diligently, faithfully... 

They make me happy, the little things. They show me beauty, delicacy, impermanence, hope. The wind brings them, man sweeps them away. They come back the other day, they insist on their right to exist. 

They are there for everyone to see. They are there on the path, along the way. You may see them too when you make your journey, when you cross your thresholds, when your heart expands and you open your eyes. You may see them, the little things, and may they bring you happiness too. 

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


I was leaving a hospital when I saw a man walking with his wife, their arms intertwined. She had a tired and tense expression in her eyes and helped him walk. Tired too, he walked. He was wearing blue hospital pijamas, the uniform of the near dead, of the kind no one wants to look at, since they remind us all that they can fit anyone.

I passed by and his eyes had an intense brightness. A brightness that only those who had walked similar steps could understand. "Good afternoon! Nice to go out, take a walk! Isn't it? He also recognized me by looking into my eyes. He smiled. "I've been here for thirty days. Last week they let me walk and today I took the chance and asked if I could do it outside. They let me!" He smiled again and took a quick look up. 

 I felt a little tightness in my chest, mind and heart went back in time. Blue pijamas, unsure steps, one foot at a time, until the window, through which rays of Sun  shone in. The realization of the beauty of a blooming tree, the wet green grass after the months of draught, the blue sky, after uncountable intravenous accesses, catheters, vitals monitoring equipment, tests, darkness and death. The feeling of the Sun on your skin, nature's life going on randomly and the hope to, one day, still be a part of it.
"How wonderful! I've spent two months in a hospital. I know how it is to look at the sky like that!"
He smiled a large smile, his eyes smiling as well. I said that, but there was no need! I know he knew it already. He had recognized me!
"All the best!"

I resumed walking, naturally striding, the wind on my hair. Walking amidst that nature, that sky, that I, once, looked from afar, with shadows of pain, eyes of enchantment and a small drop of hope. I know that, leaning on his wife, he observed me walking into the nature, into the red and blue shades of the sunset and thought: "Who knows, maybe I too will... someday..."

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Stuff you lose

You lose stuff along the way
You lose a love that is pure
You lose your youth

You lose a friend you believed in
You lose your faith
You lose a part of you

You lose touch with reality 
Your feet do not touch the ground
Your hands can't yet reach the skies 
You do not know what to do

You do not do 
You stay still
You hope
For hope

Monday, June 22, 2015

Something is wrong

Something is wrong  
It seems it's always so

Something is wrong
in the Dominican Republic
Something is very wrong 
in Charleston too

Something is truly wrong 
in the Brazilian Parliament 
Right now, right here
Close to me

Something is also quite not right
Strangely awkward it is

Something is wrong in my heart
Something is wrong
When you and I are apart

Monday, June 15, 2015


Saindo de um hospital, vi um homem caminhando, braços dados com a esposa. Ela, de olhar cansado e tenso, o apoiava.  Ele andando lentamente, carregava o soro que ainda pingava em suas veias. Cansado também andava. Vestia o pijama azul hospitalar, a roupa dos quase mortos, daqueles a quem não se quer ver, pois nos lembram que o pijama cabe em qualquer um.

Passei por ele e seu olhar tinha um brilho intenso. Brilho que só quem já caminhou passos semelhantes pode entender. "Boa tarde! É bom uma caminhadinha, né?"  Reconheceu-me também pelo olhar. Sorriu. "Estou aqui há 30 dias. Me deixaram caminhar semana passada e hoje arrisquei perguntar se podia vir pra fora. E não é que deixaram!" Sorriu de novo, dando uma olhadinha para o alto.

 Senti um ligeiro aperto no peito, mente e coração voltaram no tempo. Pijama azul, passos incertos, um pé de cada vez,  até a janela onde batia o sol.  A constatação da beleza de uma árvore florindo, da grama verde e molhada depois dos meses de seca, do céu azul, após tantos acessos intravenosos, catéteres, sondas, aparelhos, exames, escuridão e morte. A sensação do calor do sol na pele, a vida da natureza que segue, aleatória, e a esperança de um dia ainda fazer parte dela. 
- Que maravilha, né? Já passei dois meses em hospital. Sei como é ver o céu assim!
Ele sorriu largo, o olhar sorriu também. Falei, mas nem precisava! Sei que ele já sabia! Ele me reconheceu.
- Tudo de bom! 
- Para você também! 

Fui andando, passos naturalmente largos, o vento nos cabelos. Caminhando no meio daquela natureza, daquele céu, que uma vez olhei de fora, com sombras de dor, olhos de encantamento e uma gota de esperança. Sei que ele, apoiado pela esposa de olhos temerosos, me olhou caminhar dentro da natureza, dentro dos tons azuis e avermelhados do pôr do sol e pensou: "Quem sabe eu também, um dia ..." 

Friday, June 12, 2015

Phenomenally lost (Begging Maya Angelou's forgiveness)

In need of a compass, obviously
Phenomenally lost, 
Phenomenonal me

There is no Southern Cross
If you cross the Equator

Who wants to go North, you may say,
when all the birds are flying away? 

There is no sin below that line 
So they say
What do they know anyway? 

In need of a compass, obviously
Phenomenally lost, 
Phenomenonal me

Sunday, June 7, 2015

A poem on my body

You wrote a poem on my body
Filled the lines, followed the curves
With lustful words and loving silences

The secret fears of loss and death,
our longing and desire,
inscribed on the quivering of my skin

You wrote a poem on my body
Your body h
eavy on mine
Your blood, my veins
Pulsating rhymes of troubled hearts

The pacing of our movements
the verses of  our intensity
Written today on my body
On my soul

Friday, June 5, 2015

To you who think I shouldn't

You might find the words too simple 
Topics excessively mundane
You may question the hability
You may wonder about the skills

The fact is 
one cannot be but oneself
And that door, once locked, was opened
And the life, once shut out, marched in

The world expanded 
Hues and shades that never were
All the lights more intense
Every sound more profound
Each of feelings more acute

I might not grasp it all
I might not see it so clear 
I might not dig the deepest
But there's no avoiding
There's no preventing 

There's no redemption, 
But to keep on going 
To keep on searching
To keep on digging
So, forgive the shortcomings,
Or else yet, look away
For the better
For the worse
I am 
I will 
My voice is here to stay