▪ He Closed the Door

Ficaste sozinho, a luz apagou-se,
mas na sombra teus olhos resplandecem enormes.
Carlos Drummond de Andrade

BURNING PARADISE

And so he closed the door behind him and he knew he had had enough. For it wasn’t easy to bear, oh, no, it certainly wasn’t. It was him against the world now (though he knew it had always been so). He had said it; he had burnt paradise, at last. And so he closed the door and, for a moment, time ceased to run. And that moment, oh, that moment allowed for all possibilities, for all terrible things. For all sorts of wild feelings swarmed up inside him — feelings powerful (and painful) enough to dismantle him. Oh, those fears came again, mental turmoil, the ruffled surface of ocean. (Where had he read that?) And so he thought it was over, it was finally over. And so he remembered how she had looked at him in the eye that night. How she had remained silent. How she would not dare blink. And their hatred and contempt. Their disappointment. And he remembered how much he needed those words. Oh, but she wouldn’t budge. She wouldn't say a word. She remained silent and she chose to cry. And so he said it was OK (though it was not). And so he stood up and walked away (though he somehow stayed). And thus he burnt paradise. He closed the door behind him and turned the lights off. Time had come. For he knew he had had enough.

(2010)