Inner Babel / Babel Interior

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...

I was leaving a hospital, after visiting someone, 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. Exhausted 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. One that only those who had walked similar steps could understand. "Good afternoon! It's nice to go out, take a walk! Isn't it? He recognized me by looking into my eyes and smiled. "I've been here for thirty days. Last week they allowed me walk around the hospital for the first time. 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 to the open blue.   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...

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  Much You stay s till You hope For hope

Something is wrong    It seems i t'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 Microcosmically Strangely awkward it is Microscopically  Something is wrong  in my heart Something is  wrong Simply Selfishly  Wrong When you and I are apart

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, m ente 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 molha...

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

You wrote a poem on my body Filled the lines, followed the curves With lustful words a nd loving silences The secret fears  of loss and death, our longing and desire, i nscribed o n 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 Engraved  On my soul

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  T o 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