Edvaldo Silva

Excuse me, hey man
You with your back turned (me?)
Yeah, you!
I brought a flyer for you, okay? See you later

In the dark back of a fly-filled bar
Plaid shirt hanging out of baggy, dull pants
Milk-stained beard dripping down his mouth
And the drool from other days marked on his clothes
He held his gray-handled mug, a bit shaky
Walking slowly towards the exit
Another day begins or just another one that fades away
By the man named Edvaldo Silva

Doesn't know the meaning of affection and love
Doesn't know the pollen, the petals of the rose, just the thorn of the flower
Memories of life only from a childhood marked with trauma and pain
Still the memory of a father, a beast without love
Who had no job and for a long time worked the streets
Went out with men or women to have something to eat
Sold flour, weed, his body to whoever wanted it
Everything in the house for the family to see

Edvaldo Silva grew up
Locked in a room with his mother Vilma
With the crib behind the curtain, he heard everything that happened
His father with other girls, his mother serving him too
All night, loud music, drugs, and booze
For eight years, his father locked the room and left with the key
In search of new clients who wanted drugs, his body, or Vilma's
The boy would join in when he turned ten
Many clients sought out pedophilia

For a long time, Mrs. Vilma tried to escape with Edvaldo Silva
Always knew that wasn’t a future for her family
So, on a beautiful Sunday, she ran away with the boy and went to the police
Ventured to the officer who did the investigation
Ah! Sir, you have to help me
My son Edvaldo lives where a child shouldn't be
Incarcerated, prostitution, and trafficking at home
And if my husband sees me here, he’ll kill me

The boy's father was already expecting this
So he waited for the police to arrive as soon as possible
Put the family picture on the wall and bought a toy for his son
Made the house look nice, fridge full, and a gift in the crib
Waited for the family on the couch holding a rosary
When the officer arrived, he investigated the case and stayed in that room for hours
Looking for the right object or something close to being evidence
Found nothing on the bed, nor in the neighborhood that was new
Not even a forged clue, a stupid lead

Mrs. Vilma was insecure, knew her husband since the first kiss
Regrets naming her son the same way
Is sure her safety would be infinite if he were arrested
Knew he was cold, unpredictable to pull the trigger
The woman became disillusioned, cried like a river, fell into despair
Seemed in shock, waiting for death, even talked to the mirror
Yelled out the window that this was a cell and her son was locked up
Already on the brink of madness, all out of fear

The boy Edvaldo's father acted in the shadows, gave no warning
Seeing Vilma's actions, he was opportunistic, right and precise
Gave a statement to the police and proved that Vilma was out of her mind
She was showing signs of madness, so they sent her to the asylum
But she thought it was better this way, couldn’t sleep with the enemy beside her
But before being committed, she took her son and sent him to another state
Any city far away, the street is safer than that room
Didn’t know when she’d see him again, but it was signed

This is the only memory the man Edvaldo has
Twenty-seven years have passed since the last time he was in São Paulo
Nowadays he lives on a street corner begging for food and being shamed
Now he’s just another condemned homeless man
In no rush, he drinks all the milk and keeps the gray-handled mug
Puts it in the bag, where he carries the blanket and three tangerines
Never asked to come into this world, but since he’s here, he stays
And so the years go by for Edvaldo Silva

In the bag, he finds a paper he kept when he was in the fly-filled bar
Remembers that flyer when he received it from a girl’s hand
With the flyer, he gets emotional seeing people holding hands, smiling for no reason
If he had a friend, life would be good
Edvaldo wonders who the girl was
And why she would care to bring a flyer
To a dirty, stinking homeless man living on a corner
Thought it could be a mistake
But to mistake a guy who smells like rotten meat
Edvaldo kept the flyer and continued on his path

Every day he climbs the stairs to the last step, as if it were a job
Sits and rests the bag, opens his shirt and takes off his shoes
From up high, he looks at the asphalt and all the hustle of people in cars
This way the day passes faster, it’s like a shortcut
He sits up there counting the station bell ringing several times
Train arriving, leaving, the same people passing like customers
He’s almost invisible, if it weren’t for the disdain of many of them
Edvaldo cries inside, the tears of months

Who are these beings that look me in the eye?
They pretend they didn’t see me to avoid wiping my tears
I am the landscape, worse than a slap in the face
Believe me, being human is this body
I’m ashamed of my misery, what torture hunger is
It feeds on dark skin and yellow skin, but poor skin
Like a strong blow, three prongs of a whip
That invades the flesh with a cut

Those who pass and kick me
Are probably raised in a bubble
Like animals in a condo where the window
Has bars to protect them from the slums
I’m hurt, there are tough guys who throw stones at me
Some have a lot of money and are called rich
Others sleep in the mud and are confused with trash
Being human is this, believe me, it’s not animal
In the end, it rots with or without a badge

It’s getting dark, but it’s still early
Edvaldo feels hungry and it hasn’t been long
So he grabs a tangerine and peels it with his fingers
Throws the peel on the ground, near a flyer
He’s surprised when he sees the same flyer he threw in a gap
So he gets up with the bag and goes up the stairs
Takes what he had saved and compares it with the other
And sees that both are the same, without exception

Edvaldo gets emotional again with the image of the illustration
Believes that if that place existed, it would be his solution
And suddenly Edvaldo is startled by so many flyers scattered on the ground
And up ahead, the same girl handing them out at the door of a hall
And to whom she was handing them warned of a meeting
That was today, at seven in the evening with the theme of salvation
Edvaldo keeps walking, quickens his pace and heads
To the girl who invites him to enter and takes him by the hand

Continuation