I write less now

Sadness

was my muse,

I lived with her for decades

she held me

and cried with me in the dark,

and I held her close,

immortalized her in my writing

about every heartbreak,

every walk in the rain,

every commute alone--

when all I had was her,

each line was poignant, sending ripples

across time-- my attempt

at negotiating with the void

to bring back all I had lost.

I write less now.

You see,

someone else holds the both of us now,

He holds us close,

he is strong and he is steadfast.

Though he writes no poetry,

He chooses us, he lives with us,

and we are his muse.

and so perhaps soon,

there will be no need

to write so much for her,

not to brood or

to writhe in the deep end,

So suddenly,

we find ourselves at the surface,

breathing and laughing,

rushing toward a brightness

in the horizon,

almost running on water,

skipping stones,

and tripping over ourselves

for that beautiful unknown

at the edge of the universe--

for the rest of our mortal lives,

a vow to exist together.

Ad infinitum.

I had always wondered what it meant

"to be a faithful wife,"

The three hundred sixty-five

days multiplied

by the happiest years

of my life,

Each day feels alive

the moment I open my eyes

that although sometimes

we may be apart,

I know--

No, I trust

that I am safe with you.

I may never say it enough:

I love you, I love you, I love you,

Ad infinitum.

Ginhawa

Anim na taong tiis

ang uhaw

na, maski makapagtampisaw sa 

sariwang batis, 

o rumaragasang ilog,

tikom ang labi't

laway lamang ang 

ni

lu

lu

nok;

panandaliang ginhawa sa

nanunuyo't bitak na labi.

Anim na tao'ng tiniis

kaya't

'di mapapawi

kahit salukin pa

ng baso-kada-baso

o sa hulma ng aking kapalaran

(walang patak ang masasayang sa siwang ng mga daliri) 

ang iyong karagatan, lahat

la

la

gu

kin;

ginhawa, sa wakas.

The Answer

What is life,

but a series of questions?

Every answer comes

surely, faithfully,

always, in its own

perfect season.

As a sickly child, I asked,

when will I feel better?

My mother would say,

When the sun is shining,

and the birds start singing,

that is, the next morning.

As a lovesick teen, I asked,

when will I find love?

My friends would say,

When you meet him, you'll know

he will not hesitate to show

how ready he is to love you.

As an exhausted doctor, I asked,

when will I find rest?

My fiance would say,

Absolutely nothing.

(he is the extremely quiet type)

Instead,

He will pull me into his arms

and he will let me cry

or make me laugh

or let me fall asleep

or get me to eat...

He needs no words

for my overthinking,

questions unending,

poems unrhyming,

he simply is

the answer.

Secrets

There are secrets

I must keep from you

little treasures

that I like to keep close

You cannot peek!

I must lock these up

like a schoolgirl's diary

that you may not read

because you might

unwittingly, stop

adding to

my tiny collection (oh no!)

of stolen glances,

the butterflies you send

down my belly,

of humming little tunes,

as your fingers

trace smooth lines

on my hand when

we hold them together,

your dancing

of tiny dances

when you think

I am not watching,

and your every chuckle

to my every silly story,

your shy forehead kisses

barely brushing

against my hairline,

and the most precious piece--

the glint in your eyes

how you light up

at the sight of me

so you see,

still waters need not be troubled,

some things need not be said

about something as silly

as a secret crush

on my husband-to-be.

Polaris

Barely visible in the horizon,

You were no Sirius--

far from it, yet

you were the one

I'd always known how to find.

It just took me a while,

hopping across constellations

(The Big Dipper,

Cassiopeia)

all pointing me toward you

and I plucked you

out of the sky,

put you on a ring

and said "I do."

Learning to Love

Screeching-- at first

the sharp edges

of two strange rocks

rough against the whetstones,

sparks fly

until softly

smoothly,

they fit together.