Saturday, July 30, 2016

Anemia


Anemia, a deficiency of hemoglobin in the blood. I knew that had to be the problem even before the appointment. Anemia makes you weary and pale. You bleed too much, said the doctor. He gave me colored pills, one to stop the bleeding, the others to keep me strong, but I'm not strong. You think too much, someone else had said someday. I think too much, I bleed too much. A vampire had been sucking my blood for a long long time. But there are no pills for that. Are there? The creature  walked  in the shadows and slept inside a coffin. Anemia, the doctor said, a lack of red cells in your blood. I'm half myself now,  but I'm persevering. I will have to tell the vampire he can have my blood no more. Weary and pale, I walk, slowly. "Eat some liver, some dark greens, take your pills, iron, vitamins...", well meant people tell me.  Stay away from blood suckers and buy myself a "pensieve", I add to the list silently. I always thought the "pensieve" was the coolest gadget in Hogwarts, a basin where you'd put your threads of thoughts to rest, to air. Anemia, said the doctor, but he does not know of the creature that bites my neck in the middle of the night. When it leaves, it is like the world becomes contaminated by my paleness, life cannot recover from my weariness. Life becomes full of this creature's emptiness. My soul became anemic and I have to tell the vampire it can have my blood no more.


Thursday, July 28, 2016

Things I remember

I remember I had somewhere to run to when I was in trouble. I remember you telling me I'd always have that place. I could always come to you. But you are gone and I have nowhere to go, you know? I remember things would be all right. I remember you used to say this to me. I remember 

I remember I loved to read on lazy Saturday afternoons and easy Sunday mornings. I remember lying in a hammock with a book, overlooking the lake. I remember we could not swim in it then, we could only look at it. Most of the times it was bathed by the sun and its waters sparkled silvery stars here and there. I remember there was never much rain. And when there was rain, it used to fall diagonally. You told me this was the only place on earth rain would fall diagonally. I am not sure about that anymore.

I remember I could be anything I dreamt. One day I would be everything I dreamt. I remember the only place I would feel safe was the only place I would feel fear. And the only place I would feel fear was at home. I remember there were many rooms and nowhere to hide. I remember fear had me running from my bedroom to the bathroom, locking the door, waiting for silence, running back again to the room, locking the door. I remember you telling me to stay in my room until you'd come back. I remember, years later, you told me you were trying to protect me. I remember I tried, one day, to add up the afternoons I spent hiding in my room, afraid.  One year of my life was wasted locked up in a room, in fear.

I remember you telling me there was always going to be an open door for me there. I remember I believed it. I remember that when I came back from the dead and you became a child again, no longer the owner of your own fate, my room was clustered with things belonging to other people, even the bed occupied. I remember feeling it did not matter if I was dead or alive. Dead seemed the best option. There would be more space. I remember I said nothing. I just stood there and stared at the books unread, the unwanted decoration and  all the out of fashion dresses, shirts,  that occupied my place in that room.

I remember that room had a view to the lake. It had a shelf by the window. It was used both as a desk and a bench. Sitting there, I would contemplate the stars at night, I would dream. In that big big house, that room was where I lived. Nothing could harm me there if the key was turned, if the door was locked.  But, there was no room for me anymore. There was no place to hide and feel safe. Someone had closed the door you promised to keep open. I sighed and left. I remember you made me promises you could not keep. And now,  there is no room, there is no door and there is no you

Friday, July 1, 2016

Para Talytta

Minha amiga me deu um marcador de livro em forma de borboleta. Carrego agora, comigo, para onde vou. Vejo o sorriso da amiga que se foi, sempre que fecho os olhos. Em sonho, ouço sua voz que também sorria. Era boa, minha amiga. Tão boa, que minha alma desconfiada, duvidou em princípio de tanta bondade. Era suave. Ria das minhas fúrias. E, sei lá porque, dizia me admirar. Minha amiga está hoje no lago em que nado. Outro amigo disse: "Agora você vai nadar com ela", e me fez um carinho. Tenho bons amigos. Minha amiga me viu perder um filho. Hoje vejo seu filho perder a mãe. A minha dor e a perda dele, a minha perda e a sua dor. 

Estava feliz, a minha amiga. A vida começando, os sonhos caminhando. Da última vez que nos falamos, o calor, a praia, o mar... Tinha o mar para amenizar. Há poucas semanas pensara, quando formos a praia será ainda melhor. Sua família, minha família, na praia, as crianças correndo, castelos de areia, alegria e paz. Ao saber da minha amiga, fiquei braba, comigo. Não estava lá, não segurei sua mão, não lhe disse que ela podia também ficar braba, se quisesse, não arrumei seu travesseiro, não molhei seus lábios, não amenizei sua sede. Eu não estava lá. Parece que nunca estou lá. Mais tarde, a igreja, as elaborações, o consolo.  "Está melhor",  "Está com o Pai", eu murmurando: "Pare de levar meus amigos! Pare de levar meus amigos!" 

I'm mourning my friend, a frase me vem enquanto caminho meu caminho de todos os dias, meu caminho de borboletas, flores, folhas vivas e secas. Seu rosto em meu pensamento, seu sorriso, a borboleta saindo do livro que ainda não consegui ler. I'm missing my friend, saudade de nó na garganta, saudade de me deixar furiosa e de brigar com o mundo. "Pare de levar os meus amigos!" Ela ria das minhas brabezas, ela se divertia. Ela riria dessa história, de mim e diria algo que acalmaria minha raiva. Sem querer, ela diria. Era suave, minha amiga. O vento balança as folhas das árvores em frente ao escritório em que trabalho, suave. Eu vou nadar com você, minha amiga, e vou levar você comigo, sempre.