The letter
will arrive and enquire after sorrow
words
that will wipe off the tears from
the eyes,
the seat of love
downtown
in any part
at any restaurant
on any stage
on any bench
when entering any lodge
just as entering any inch, for
instance,
but unlike exploring a certain
familiar spot
a record
with data
and the promptness of the postal
service
the letter
whose words will bridge over time
at times through tearful eyes
at times with dry shivering lips
at times as long, deep and weary
sighs of happiness when
the eyes will quietly fix upon them
having read the words the eyes will
know the wet grief of
the lingering agony of a
muffled and distressing loneliness
that cannot be told to anybody
but to
the very soul of the letter.
(Painting : Isabel Pinheiro)
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