74
CIRQUE
A Home in the Forest
Jan Jung
DesirĂŠe Jung
Reconciliation He told me, he was always praying for the Brazilian slaves. Agitated, he insisted on reconciliation. Canada has changed me, he said, or at least I like to believe it.
Holding my breath, I knew part of me was dying too, losing loved ones along the way, away from home because home is where I stand.
I nodded, listening to his memories, escaping the dictatorship, bringing with him only poets and stanzas full of sins. I could almost hear his guilt and the ship’s bell.
Portugal is forgiven, I told him, all is well. And for the first time, I spoke to him in Portuguese. I told him I was Ă deriva too. And like him, would feel saudade of the geese, one day, after I became ashes thrown in the mountains of this province.
Holding the thermometer, I knew he had very high fear, and fever, and even though he was dying, I kept wishing he would get better, expecting God to save him.
He tried to speak but eventually the room grew quiet, his hand in mine, colder and warmer, colder and warmer, like many others before him.