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The Tattered Soul

The soul learns early
how to fray
Time does not shout
it brushes past
soft as a sleeve in a crowded room
and still it leaves threads behind
Once
the soul was a clean page
bright with belief
stitched tight with first mornings
and reckless hope
Then came the years
quiet thieves
lifting colour
loosening seams
teaching the heart the slow grammar of loss
Time tugs
not cruelly
just often
It pulls at laughter until it thins
at dreams until they feather
at love until it aches with memory
instead of promise
The soul grows tattered
but not empty
Look closer
every tear is a doorway
every loose thread remembers warmth
every worn edge has held on
longer than it thought it could
Time thinks it wins
because it leaves marks
But the soul
oh the soul
keeps breathing through the rips
keeps light caught in its tatters
like dawn through torn curtains
And if it is ragged now
it is because it stayed
because it felt
because it dared to keep going
while the hours kept passing
A tattered soul is not broken
it is proof
Proof that you lived
and loved
and let time touch you
without ever giving it the final word

JH

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2026 in poetry

 

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We must remember

Not as stone remembers rain
but as skin remembers fire,
the way a name once spoken can still bruise the air
History is not a museum with clean glass,
it breathes, it waits,
it hums in the wires above our streets
and in the silence after a door shuts too hard
Hands have built hospitals and cages,
the same hands,
fingers that can cradle a child
or sign a list that turns people into numbers
Do not look away,
forgetting is a luxury paid for by the broken
memory is the candle we keep lit
even when the room wants darkness
We remember the trains that did not ask questions,
the ships that mistook profit for prayer,
the borders drawn like scars
across living, speaking hearts
This is not about guilt alone,
it is about vigilance,
about love standing guard through the night
with tired eyes and an unyielding spine
Because the past is patient,
it will repeat itself softly at first,
a joke, a shrug, a rule,
until cruelty feels normal and silence feels safe
So we remember, loudly and tenderly,
we say the names, we tell the stories,
we teach our children that dignity is not divisible
and humanity is not a trend
Memory is an act of hope,
a refusal to let tomorrow be built
with the same old knives
We remember,
so that kindness stays awake
and the world, bruised but breathing,
gets another chance to choose better
JH

 
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Posted by on January 27, 2026 in Uncategorized

 

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No Right No Left

There should not be a left
or a right
Only a circle
where we sit close enough
to feel each other breathe
Politics learned the language of corners
sharp words
pointing fingers
maps drawn with rulers instead of hands
But the heart has no party
it votes every morning
for warmth
for safety
for the simple miracle of being seen
A border is just a sentence
written by fear
it says stop
it says yours not mine
it forgets the grammar of kindness
We are made of shared weather
shared grief
shared laughter spilling over pavements
like rain that refuses to choose a country
Imagine power that listens
laws that kneel to humanity
flags lowered just enough
to wrap the cold
Respect is not radical
Care is not naïve
They are ancient
older than slogans
older than walls
There should not be a left
or a right
only forward
together
hands open
voices softer
eyes brave enough to recognise themselves
in everyone else
A future where we do not win over each other
but with each other
where the loudest statement
is how gently
we choose to live
JH

 
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Posted by on January 20, 2026 in poetry

 

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Choose a path

Choose the path that lets your spirit breathe,

Stand with your friends where honesty is kind,

What serves your heart will gently serve them too,

In caring for yourself, you leave light behind.

JH

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2026 in poetry

 

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New year

In 2025, the world rattled like loose change in a storm

Voices clashed, fears flared, hearts forgot their shared warm form

Yet from the noise grew listening, slow hands learning grace

Till chaos bent toward peace, and kindness found its place.

JH

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Em 2025 o mundo tilintou como moedas soltas na tempestade

Vozes chocaram, medos arderam, corações esqueceram a sua humanidade

Mas do ruído nasceu a escuta, mãos lentas a aprender a graça

Até que o caos se curvou à paz e a bondade encontrou o seu espaço.

JH

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2025 in poetry

 

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In Quiet Fields

In quiet fields where soft winds roam, we stand

And feel the breath of those who marched before.

Their names drift through the grass like distant sand

And settle in our hearts forevermore.

We promise them our memory will stay

As still as dawn that trembles into day.

The poppies rise in gentle crimson light,

Their petals catch the turning of the sun.

They glow as if they gathered up the night

Then traded it for hope when morning won.

So when their red blooms stir beneath the sky,

We look, we breathe, we remember why.

JH

 
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Posted by on November 8, 2025 in poetry

 

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Letting Go

There’s a moment in the hush between heartbeats,
When holding on becomes heavier than hope
and in that silence,
you learn the art of release.
You untie the knots you tied in stormy weather,
loosen your grip on ghosts in the mirror,
and find that your hands
though empty
are free.
The past does not apologise,
nor promise not to sting.
But you,
gentle and fierce,
choose peace over proof,
flight over fear.
You are not the branch that broke,
you are the wind that moved on.
Not the anchor rusting below,
but the tide that still sings to the moon.
So let go,
not in weakness
but in wild, sacred strength.
Let go like dusk lets go of the sun,
trusting it will rise again.
JH

 
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Posted by on July 14, 2025 in poetry

 

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Whispers of Fado

In an alley where lanterns lean low to the wall,
And shadows lace gently across evening’s shawl,
A voice like warm velvet begins to arise
A sigh wrapped in music, a tear in disguise.

Fado, they call it the song of the street,
Where sorrow and beauty in silence meet.
A woman in black with a lantern of flame,
Sings of lost sailors and love without name.

Her voice climbs the stones, where the old trams have been,
Where laundry sways softly and hearts have grown thin.
A guitar responds with a tender refrain,
Like waves kissing rooftops again and again.

It’s not joy, not quite sorrow it lives in between,
In the corners of cafes, where time is unseen.
It lingers in hearts like a kiss that won’t fade,
A memory worn, but never betrayed.

Fado remembers the ones who have gone,
The night with no moon, the silence at dawn.
But still it keeps singing, both broken and bold
A story of Lisbon forever retold.

So sit by the window, let your thoughts drift away,
To a city that sings even after the day.
And if you should weep, let it be soft and slow
For Fado is weeping, and wants you to know.

JH

Artwork by Julan

 
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Posted by on June 30, 2025 in poetry

 

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“You Belong, Bright Soul”

They called you names like broken glass,

Threw words like stones, each meant to pass

Their shadows onto you, but dear,

You’re forged of light, not born of fear.

They saw your quiet, called it weak,

But silence roars when kind hearts speak.

They mocked the way you danced alone

But stars don’t ask for praise to shine.

You are the storm they couldn’t tame,

The ember they refused to name,

The poem scribbled in the night

By hands that dream in black and white.

Unwanted? No. You’re carved from grace

A universe inside your face.

Each scar, a tale of battles braved,

Each bruise, a flag for what you’ve saved.

The bullies bark because they break

They see your joy, and theirs is fake.

But you, sweet soul, you rise and rise

With every tear, you claim the skies.

So lift your head. You’re not alone.

This world is yours. This heart’s your home.

No cruel word can dim your worth

You are the fire that warms the earth.

JH

 
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Posted by on June 2, 2025 in poetry

 

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A shadow in the world

A shadow creeps where light once lay,
A poison seeps into the day.
Once hands were clasped in human grace,
Now fear divides and scars replace.
The echoes of the past return,
Old lessons are taught, yet none we learn.
They build their walls, they mark their lines,
With hollow words and hollow spines.
And watch as justice bends and falls.
They paint their hatred in disguise,
Yet we see through their veiled replies.
The colour fades from hopeful dreams,
Replaced by cold and broken schemes.
A love once free is bound in chains,
As tyranny reclaims its reigns.
But still, we rise; we will not bow,
Not then, not ever—not now.
For love will burn through the darkest night,
And truth will stand, and truth will fight.
So let them shout, let them conspire,
We’ll fan the flames, ignite the fire.
For though they try to make us small,
Love and justice rise for all.
JH

 
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Posted by on April 11, 2025 in poetry

 

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