Imagine a place filled with bright sunlight and tall, majestic trees. A little town is nestled gently in the hillside, with white-walled buildings and dark tiles on the roof. Here and there is a pretty pop of color – a yellow door, a pink sign, a dark blue car. Beneath the ground the earth is rich with metals and minerals like gold and quartz.

Above ground green parakeets flap their wings as they dart from branch to branch…

And nearby, a lazy river winds its way through a small Brazilian town called Cidade de Goiás.

The river murmurs its hellos as it flows alongside the town’s cobblestone streets and underneath its bridges.

On one particular bridge, there’s a woman wearing a simple dress and carrying a basket full of cashews, figs, papayas, and oranges. In the late morning sun, she’s making her way home after visiting the market. Her white hair is pulled back from her face, which is etched with laugh lines and wrinkles. 

This rebel woman’s name is Anna Lins dos Guimarães Peixoto Bretas but we know her as Cora Coralina. On the day that we meet her, Cora is 76 years old. The sun is so hot as she walks through her town, but she doesn’t mind. She is too thrilled thinking about her first book of poetry that has just been published. It has been such a long road to get to this place. She has wanted to be a poet for most of her life! And now…she is about to become one of Brazil’s most beloved poets of all! As she walks, she remembers…

At that time, women in Brazil, and all over the world, weren’t really supposed to become writers or even go to school. Their job was to find a husband and raise children.

The thing was, Cora didn’t want to do what she was supposed to do. She loved to read and write. She needed to explore new words and ideas. In her teens and early 20s, Cora would occasionally get a poem published in a local paper or magazine, which felt like a big deal, but she knew there was more inside her.

But life sometimes takes a wandering path. At age 22, Cora fell in love. She got married and started a family. And she left her tiny hometown of Goiás to raise her children in the bustling city of Sao Paulo.

To earn money for the family Cora began working in a “confeitaria”  – a place that sells all kinds of sweets.  

Picture her there, surrounded by the warm doughy scent of condensed milk, cinnamon and vanilla. Her hair in a bun, a white apron of heavy cloth wrapped tightly around her body, a smudge of flour on her nose. She reaches into a huge bowl to punch down the rising dough she has made. Soon she will bake it into a loaf of Rosca Doce, a yummy sweet bread that her customers love.

Cora makes so many delicious treats. Like pillowy Bolo de rolo, a thinly rolled cake with gooey guava paste squeezed inside of it so it looks like the trunk of a tree! Or, her absolute favorite – nutty, chocolatey, Caju. A treat Cora would make and share her whole life. 

Cora is proud of her work as a baker. She calls it “mais nobre das artes,” the “noblest of arts.” 

But no matter how much time passes or how tired she is – from raising her children and waking up early to bake delicious pastries, Cora keeps writing. 

She writes every single day. She writes about life in the Brazilian countryside. She writes about mythology. She writes about the world around her. And she writes about being a woman.

Cora is inspired by all of her surroundings. 

“Numa ânsia de vida eu abria

o vôo nas asas impossíveis

do sonho.”

“In a hunger for life I took 

flight on the impossible wings 

of dreams,”  she writes. 

In her garden, she sees words emerge from each blooming flower: 

“Recria tua vida, sempre, sempre.

Remove pedras e planta roseiras e faz doces. Recomeça.”

“Recreate your life, always, always” 

“Remove stones, plant roses, and make sweets. Begin again.”

Poetry sings throughout Cora’s life. 

But again – the path of life wanders. After many years, when her kids were grown up and her husband had passed away, Cora moved back to her childhood home: that old white house by the bridge and slept in the very room she was born in.

Each day she would rise and maybe cut a slice of cake for her breakfast and sit at her desk to write. Images flashed through her head and spun themselves into words and wisdom that flowed from her fingertips.

“A verdadeira coragem é ir atrás de seu sonho mesmo quando todos dizem que ele é impossível.”

“True courage is to go after your dreams even when everyone says it’s impossible,” she wrote.

******

And Cora would know. As a young person she was told that girls should behave a certain way and perform certain duties. And now that she was older some people told her she was too old to write.

Many said she should just give up. 

What about you, rebels? Have you ever had a dream that seemed impossible? 

Maybe you want to be a writer or a scientist or a politician. Maybe you want to cure diseases or sing on Broadway?

And maybe, just like Cora, people in your life say you can’t reach your dreams either. maybe you’ve never seen someone who looks like you or sounds like you become a famous poet or  doctor or president.

That’s what happened to Cora. But you know what? Cora’s head and heart were so chock full of words and ideas that they were going to come out no matter what. 

*******

So let’s go back now, to where we started. 

Cora as an older woman, reaches her house at the end of the bridge. She smiles at the stout white building with its tiled roof and dark green door.

“Bom dia!” she calls to her neighbor, “Good morning!”

The neighbor waves back as Cora steps inside her home.

The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the air, and Cora’s eyes brighten as she walks into her kitchen.

Her mouth tingles at the thought of the candied figs she’s going to make—their sweet syrup, the tang of that first bite.

Cora loves making things that bring others joy. In her kitchen, she makes candies that she sells from her doorstep. But today she is not baking for anyone else. Today is a special day. 

She has just gotten a copy of her first book, “Poemas Dos Becos de Goiás e Estórias Mais,” or Poems from the Alleys of Goias…and other stories. It’s arrived in the mail and she carefully unwraps it. The paper tickles her fingers and sends a shiver of excitement up her spine.

On the cover, she sees a faded picture of a cobblestone alley winding through her beloved city of Goais. It’s better than she could have ever imagined. After decades, her first book!

The words that have been just secrets in Cora’s heart now fly across the Brazilian countryside. Soon, journalists from all over the world come to visit this white-haired woman who has always seen  herself as much a sweet maker as a poet. 

They will interview her in her kitchen as syrup bubbles on the stove. And when they leave, she will return to her desk again and again, the smell of fruits and candies clinging to the air around her.

Leaving the book on her desk, Cora washes her figs, the water cool on her fingertips. She leaves them to soak and soften. Later, she will boil them, and cool them, and cover them in a delicious cinnamon-y syrup.

But for now, she feels the words bubbling up in her heart again, urging her to write.

She has so much more to say. And she dreams of the poems that might come next.

At age 76, she feels like she is just beginning.

And she writes, the dark ink scratching across the page: 

What counts in life is not the starting point, but the journey, she writes. 

Walking and sowing, in the end, you will have something to reap.

What do you think Cora would say if she were with us now? 

What dreams would she tell you to never give up on?

Maybe she would tell us to be courageous enough to go after our impossible dreams. 

And maybe, like Cora, one day we will.