When I was growing up, my middle brother used to say that, as a newborn, I had been left at our house's doorsteps in a box, along with two baby parrots. They had chosen to keep me, he said, because they mistakenly thought I wouldn't be as noisy as the parrots...
That's my dear brother's sense of humor.
Anyway, if that were really true,and if parrots lived that long, they'd be celebrating their birthday today, with me.

Of all the Catholic metaphors, I should say that Easter is the one that makes more sense to me. I do believe in death and rebirth. I don´t believe in it as a fact. I believe in symbolical death and rebirth: something has to go so that something else occupies its place. It happens in nature all the time.

I spent this Easter with the people I love most in this world, and many of them are children. Their growing up means a symbolical death to us, adults. I´m fine with it. My body feels the years go by, but my heart is reborn, again and again, in their smile. 

                                                                     Ana and Gabriel

                                                       Luana, Lucas and the little Analu

After Clarice, in Forgiving God

No, I don´t want to embrace a rat.

I´m not ready for that.

In my selfish, so human way

I want to cry and scream and kill the rat.

I thought I could embrace the world.

But the world has rats.

And I´m not ready to share my world with a rat.

I want to embrace those twelve dead birds.

Heart stopped. Broken wings.

I know the rat was a bird once.

Sorry for him.

But when he got two guns and became a rat

He got bad, and there are birds to protect.

I just want to be human today

And in my selfish, so human way

I weep for the birds, not the rat.


- This poem came out after trying to make sense of this  and this.