A ausente

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Ismael Serrano dedica uma música aos que partiram. A todos que se foram.

E eu choro. De luto. Sobrevivo à maior perda da minha vida. Os dias se arrastam e embora eu me cobre todas as fortalezas possíveis, todas as fortalezas de que sou feita desde há muito - as que ela mesma me ensinou - uma lágrima, feita de chumbo, está em alguma parte de mim, e ali permanece, fincada. Dói uma dor de martírio, de coisas que não ditas, se. Uma dor permanente e sem voz, mas que atravessa a garganta. E mais. Permeia o que sou. E os dias em que, sem ti, continuo tendo que ser forte.

Imagem: The Departed, do Scorsese.

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