The Moon
As I rise, 
Changed 
From how I rose before
My majesty - once revered 
Now obscured by artificial lights. 
Agua (Water)
Water is pure, 
Potential 
Unformed 
The matrix from which all life on earth takes its being - 
                              Water, 
                                       Flowing
                                                      Ebbing 
                                                                 Vibrating  tidal trances 
       The continuous dance,  of all that is truth - Life . 
Mother Moon
I, Jacy,  am not only feminine, and you, Guaracy, are not only masculine, - 
I am both; -  you are both; 
I am as much as you are 
the representation of such energies
 – an omnipresent balance that constantly shifts, 
                  ebbs 
                                                 and evolves.   

 Often, I come to land, under the guise of my silver kingdom,
Camouflaged as masculine, -
 In your corporeal guise
As my figure; - Woman. 
Would result too distracting 
For your innocent human eyes.
​​​​​​​


From my hair -  weaved from light seams,
To my lips, - plum like the fullness of my moon
I come as your equal, - under the solstice 
of my crescent Moon. 

I come to nourish soils planted 
Under my tender and nurturing guise  
As my priestesses are my Planters 
They know my dance so very true 
Ebbing 
                        constantly 
                                                                               to the rhythms of my shifting Moon  

- Luiza Awad
 Haiku
Quietly Mellow 
Shadows Seemingly Swimming
Above The Headstone
Segredo (Portuguese)
O amor é um segredo 
Que nos deixa ileso 
Ao medo de desvenda-lo 
You and I 
Sometimes in the silence of night 
I let my mind wander 
Towards the energy of us. 

Invasively intimate, -   
yet sorrowfully healing.

That is what You have become
in the context of  I.
Winds
Sometimes winds collide
Alluringly sucking 
Winds to its center
Forcefully pleasing, - 
Such pull will be. 

So heed my warning,
 My Dearest breeze

For the tempest 
Of storms
Takes only one 
Ill fated wind

Nefariously concealing 
Wickedness for attraction. 
Sunflower
Petals once vivaciously full 
Withered with un-watered intentions.  
Now an echo 
of a life once brightly lived.
Light & Darkness
I have come to realize 
How life is more than the contrast of light and dark.
Often times we forget to gaze upon the details in such contrast; 
How everyday we are made to experience Life.
An intricately composed web of varying bright and dark shades. 
Inherently divine in its balanced composition.

Everyday we paint in its’ missing pieces
balancing darkness with light.
For without its balance 
there'd lack strength of confidence
 to dive head first in moments of light. 
As a Women is Sought a Girl is Found

You are at that restless and doubtful age
Like a day that seems unsure 
If to bring the shine from Sun or that of the Moon. 

Pairing a short butt height dress 
With a make belief princess 
stamped on her bag. 
A bit of a child, 
And a bit of a lady.

Sometimes foolish, 
Other times modest 
Perfecting the marriage 
Of madness and sanity.

With childish traits 
And women gestures 
Studying catechism 
And streaming Porn. 

A girl that is no more a child, 
As she is a lady
A girl that thinks she knows, 
Yet has a lot to learn. 

From touching the throbs 
Emanating from her growing breasts.
To lying with a moving pillow 
In between her legs.

She is as adorable 
As she is divine 
An enigma 
which will flourish through time.
O Que é a Vida? (Portuguese)
O que é a vida sem a busca eterna do Amor? 
A caça aquela sensação única mas não solitária,  
O toque e a intenção detrás de cada gesto, 
cada beijo,
cheiro, 
toque; - 
cada suspiro confessionário cantado ao seu ouvido.

O lamento é que em essa busca, 
o coração se molda, - 
perdendo a faísca daquela sensação divina 
que era, -  te Amar 

Aquela pureza do olhar 
Perdendo-se 
com cada ferida, 
com cada promessa não cumprida, 
com cada dia em que eu
nao era vista. 

Eu aprendí que Amar 
é aprender a ser feliz com a solidão.

Brother 

My dear brother,
If you're reading this,
You survived. 
The years of billowing silence 
Imposed by the negative forces
Floating around your bedside.

From torn out broken shadows 
That awaken with the moon,
To the chirping of black crows
Outside your bedroom

To your white blankets now frosted 
Dangling idly near your fence 
To your amber stricken window 
That has never opened vent 

To the once brightly lit ambers
That danced within your eyes 
naively, gave entry to torment 
Who took refuge in your mind.

From wounds to scars 
Perceived by others as self-inflicted 
Are in truth remnants 
Of the continuous war 
Between weakness and perseverance.

The wounds of torment 
Now etched in your gaze,
Are the result of the chains 
Torment brought with it 
To block the exit 
Of your mental maze.

It is not your fault 
You no longer see
The beauty that lives 
Within your very being. 

It is not your fault 
You found solace in Fiction
And it is not your fault 
Torment chose you as its victim.

But it is my fault 
To not have noticed torment within you,
And it is my fault 
As a sister
To not have guided you
Through the beauty
That is non-fiction 

My beautiful, smart, caring brother, 
I am so sorry you’ve forgotten 
The life one can live 
When ones’ mind, 
Free of torment, 
is conditioned 
to not only breathe, 
But live.  

Escrito 13.05.2021
Shame

It is a shame 
How in a world filled 
With information 
And connection

Built around centuries 
Of words and expressions
People 
still find excuses for war.

It is a shame
How gender 
Is still being censored
How nakedness 
is used as fuel 
for diet pills 
And zero sized 
Mannequins.

It is a shame
How young girls 
Believe their bodies are not to be accepted
How their beauty is not something to be cherished
But rather cleansed and perfected

It is a shame   
How boys believe their manliness
is based on their emotional 
Disconnection
Spurring a generation
That believes 
Anger is better 
Than acceptance


It is a shame
that we still live in a world
That has systematically places people in boxes
where privacy 
has become antonym for profit 

It is a shame 
that so much shame can be found
in a world that was dealt all the right cards 
to thrive.
The Great Mother 

At First - there was Nothing. 



Darkness bathed all Time and Space. 

I, - Yebá Bëló, 
Weaved myself 
out of Darkened Silence 
Echoing rhythmic vibrations
From the tides of my weight. 

My limbs, 
- weaved from light seams
Spawned bringing chaos 
& from Stars 
To Planets 
to Swarms of them
E N T W I N E D 

My Limbs 
Like veins engulfed with creation 
Saw life flourish 
Before it's tides. 

Ask me how I did it. 
How I brought all of this - to be. 

You see my child
I, was merely the ODD one
in a very EVEN sea 

I am me, 
As you are you, 
An intricately woven blanket 
of infinitely connected hues. 

So live in your essence 
Knowing your are not alone
As I inhabit every atom 
Of your physically conscious home. 

And if my presence within you 
Still leaves you seeking more 
Look up to my children 
Who light both dusk till dawn. 
 
Etching Memory 
Look at those shut eyes 
Look how at peace they seem 
Look at those wrinkled hands
Look how restful they appear to be
Look at those pale lips 
Look and remember how they once were 
Look at her resting head and
Look to remember her once olive tone 
Look and please don’t dare forget
Look to remember, 
for remembering is the only 
look at her you’ll ever again get .​​​​​​​
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