AFTER TWENTY SEVEN YEARS

by Antonio Gomes, MD



After twenty seven years,
I returned to Aldona,
to my grandmother's house
now half its size,
the current owner,
my aunt by marriage,
found it too big to keep
all the old ones had died.

Into the Prayer Room
I entered. The beds asleep
the alter untouched - the ivory
Saints, Our Lady of Santana,
the Crucified Christ and Mary
looked on, I bowed in reverence.

There, the memory of my ancestors
chatting before the Rosary
of village matters, coming wedding
of a cousin, the village drunkard.
Rosary beads rolling in their delicate fingers
some dosing in between words of
Hail Marys and Our Fathers.

Then - wind took away their prayers
the flickering yellow light
blurred their image and
from behind came the voices
of servants, faint footsteps
of my old grandmother
and the voice of my mother calling:
"Come my son, come for your blessing"
And I went with folded hands
and they blessed me one by one.

As the window o p e n e d,
a distant breeze iced my cheek -
tears rolled down my face as I
stretched out my arms to embrace.
My maid Terezinha who was by
my side asked in alarm:
"Baby why do you cry?"