Declaração Em Juízo

I apologize for being
the survivor.
not for long, of course.
reassure yourselves.
but I must confess, acknowledge
that I am a survivor.
if it's sad/funny
to sit in the audience
when the show is over
and the theater closes,
more sad/grotesque is to remain on stage,
sole actor, without a role,
when the audience has turned their backs
and only cockroaches
circulate in the crumbs.

notice: I'm not to blame.
I did nothing to be
a survivor.
I didn't plead to the higher powers
to keep me for so long.
I didn't kill any of my companions.
if I didn't leave violently,
if I let myself stay stay stay,
it was without a second intention.

they left me here, that's all,
and they all went away, one by one,
without warning, without waving at me,
without saying goodbye, they all left.
(some refined it in silence).
I don't complain. nor do I blame them.
surely there was no purpose
to leave me to myself,
perplexed,
disembodied.
they didn't think one would survive.
that's it. I became, they made me
survivor.

if you wonder why I'm alive,
I clarify: I'm surviving.
I didn't really live
except in project. postponement.
calendar of the next year.
I never realized I was living
when so many were living around me! how much.
sometimes I envied them. other times, I felt
sorry for so much life that was exhausted in living
while not living, surviving
endured, lasting.
and I stood in a corner, waiting,
contradictory and simply,
for the time to also
live.

it didn't come. I say it didn't. everything was rehearsals,
tests, illustrations. true life
smiled far away, indecipherable.
I gave up. I withdrew
more and more, shell by shell. now
I'm a survivor.

survivor bothers
more than a ghost. I know myself
I bother myself. the reflection is a fierce proof.
no matter how much I hide, I project myself,
I return to myself, I provoke myself.
threatening me is useless. I always come back,
every morning I turn back, turn around
with the precision of a mailman delivering bad news.
all day is a day
to check my phenomenon.
I am where my roots are not,
my path where I remained,
persistent, reiterated, distressing
survivor
of the life that I have not yet
lived, I swear by god and the devil, I have not lived.

everything confessed, what a pity
will be applied to me, or forgiveness?
I suspect nothing can be done
in my favor or against.
there is no technique
to make, undo
the unmade undoable.
if I am a survivor, I am a survivor.
it is necessary to recognize this quality
which finally is. I am the only one, understand?
from a very old group
of which there is no memory on the sidewalks
and in the videos.
the only one to remain, to sleep,
to dine, to urinate,
to stumble, even to smile
on quick occasions, but I guarantee I smile,
like at this moment I am smiling
to be - delight? - a survivor.

just wait, okay?
for the survival time to pass
and everything is resolved without scandal
before the indifferent justice.
I just noticed, and unsurprisingly:
they don't listen to me in the sense of understanding,
and it doesn't matter that a survivor
come to tell their story, defend themselves
or accuse themselves, it's all the same
nothing, and white.