Cláudia Cruz: Poems

a box

Cláudia Cruz Apr 2019

a box

full of letters
and pictures
and stickers
sits in the last drawer of the dresser
mom left me when she passed

touching
first time in many years
exterior rough, like sand
but not slipping through the fingers

opening
hinges shriek
and the nose recognizes
the paper and the dust

closing
eyes with tears
hands shake
too heavy to hold

A poem I wrote for the Sharpened Visions workshop on Coursera.

#sadness #grief #miss #missing #memory #past #loss #lost

Café 1

Cláudia Cruz Oct 2014

Café 1

eu
queria
largar
o café
mas
o café
não me larga
e eu tenho
medo
de que
se eu o largar
eu também
me largo

além disso, o café me alarga
e pra existir eu preciso de espaços
pra acompanhar essa bebida amarga
nada melhor do que uma alma em pedaços

escrito entre um gole de café e outro

#cafe #eu #existir

my sense of self

Cláudia Cruz Apr 2019

my sense of self

is full of nonsense:

summing up my parts,
contradiction is the quotient
and the remainder is a hole
I fail to fill

my thoughts don’t add up;
questions make fractions
that multiply themselves
of their own will

regret is the exponent
when decision is the base
and even the best results
are some digits out of place

GloPoWriMo, Day 1

#glopowrimo #napowrimo #poem #mathematics #mind #thoughts #existential

Tempest

Cláudia Cruz Oct 2014

Tempest

Yet, I fail.
From time to time, I will fail.
I try to minimize the failure,
                               To be the mind, and not the wind,
                               To be a kin, and not akin,
                               To be a friend, not a fiend.
But when we sail,
I'm not the sailor,
I am the tempest.

yet again, here i am.

#life #me #relate #sail #fail

Too Many

Cláudia Cruz Oct 2014

Too Many

How many times do I have to die to keep on living?
How many stars do I have to burn to keep on breathing?
How many tires have to be flat to stop me from crashing?
How many starts do I have to stop from the beginning?

How many lives do I have to live to have one that's my own?
How many burns do I have to inflict to feel my own bones?
How many lies do I have to tell to feel that I've grown?
How many times will I have to hide to not be alone?

too many.

#questions #too #me #many

— The End —