"The inspiration never tires me
when a song shakes
the waters of the river renew
thousands storm break out
the cries multiplies."
These clear and intense verses open a simple and linear way to talk about Marcia Theophilo’s poetry: poetry which debates between the enormity of the events and the difficulty of existing. All this is much more enlarged in a country so magic and tragic like Brazil. As a first remark it’s possible to notice the universal existential relationship that Marcia Theophilo has established with the life, the history, the destiny of the human being, lost on this small point of the universe called: Earth.
"I’m alive and I want the others to know it
the humidity of the rain, the heat and the coolness of the wind."
Is like to say that the human being and his prosopopoeia as a great maker of history and destiny, is not much than a particle, an insignificant sign in the nullity, only a track and the poetry is one of the few routes still practicable to help the human being, and then the earth, to not get definitively lost. Marcia Theophilo has a successful capacity to organize the page. The words can pass with great simplicity and elegance from the private to the public, from the historical to the daily, from the mythical to the macro history, from the dream to the real.
"Tree, I know your life,
your rustlings, the voice of your arms,
and you look for my sight to give me company."
Theophilo’s poetry comes from the mythical world of Amazon, from a heavenly elsewhere, but is caged in European rhythms, or I can better say Mediterranean, in other words her verses are modulated with sudden spurts of blood; they possess a wild force, they are a river in flood from which always emerges the difficult sincerity/authenticity of the author.
"And our smile deads
like placed papers
ready to fall
in the arms for me to kiss
I sing the Amazon doesn’t give right to Saint Beuve when he says that the value of a work is inseparable from the biography of the author, but neither to Benedetto Croce who asserts that the only biography of an author is his work, both visions which look distant, if not diametrically opposed, are mixed, the merit goes to Marcia Theophilo who is an exile. We should not forget that whoever lives, also by choice as Marcia Theophilo, far from his roots and works with the words, feels the torment of the distance, the melancholy of abandonment. Furthermore, the poet, on the threshold of Two Thousand, is not by himself an exiled? A non integrated person? A non accepted person? The nowadays society is occupied to grasp material assets, to adorn the appearance, about the inside of the material assets is not interested and the poet goes along his solitary and perilous route. Marcia Theophilo’s poetry so persuasive, so cradling but also plenty of criticism, of rhythms which seem to imitate the rhythms of the seasons, is far from the schools, out of the "bunch" because Theophilo is close to everyone, than once again far to brood over, like mother Earth, those words sprouts that from her will blossom.
If I have to find some masters I’ll say Rafael Alberti. But the disciple goes beyond him in the capacity of making the real mythical and mythical the real. I’ll also say Vinicius de Moreas and Antonio Machado, Ferdinando Pessoa of the Cantoe of the sailor, and Garcia Lorca of the Gipsy cantoes. I sing the Amazon is the document of a woman who suffers, loves, struggles . A document which is sometimes painful and dark, some others happy and cheering. The verses are always calculated, they mime the myth of Amazon thrown in the ramshackle roman metropolis. If the poetry, as many think, is nostalgia, Marcia Theophilo’s poetry translates the intermittences of the Earth’s heart. Hers is a journey in the names and in the numens, is the return to an uncorrupted world. Theophilo’s is a voice against time. Her poetry is the epiphany of an unlimited heart, new and unusual, today that the nature is rather mistreat. Poetry is the vehicle to lead the world out of the anxiety and of the uncertainty because is itself uncertainty and ambiguity.
"Opening the heaven, kindle the madness
our wild senses. We go
among high beams, among dense colours
in ecstasy calling the goddess. "
And then welcome to this Indio-European celebration. Let’s we prepare to return to the myth, and give back dignity and authority to the words.
Published as a preface to Marcia Theophilo’s poetries in the
"Love poems. In secret and passion" (with the title "The way your caresses are")