Conception Dream

I have written about stars

often, with love and longing,

with wonder, enchantment,

and he lives with me now,

My North Star,

my anchor,

my guiding point,

he is strong

as he is true,

and he shines not the brightest,

as he shines

only for those who search for him,

and in our journey

       to that distant shore in the sky,

               on one beautiful September day,

we conceived a new star.

Then November came,

Our star showed itself

against the haze,

floating in the dark,

a tiny little heart--

as if twinkling,

the heart was beating

strong and true,

a hundred and ten

times a minute

and we watched it,

as everything else fell away,

then came the answer

from the universe:

This was The Star I had been wishing on

all along,

the star that will shine the brightest of them all.

the days

the days

pass

quick

as quick

and as silly

as trying

to catch rabbits

popping out

of rabbit holes

we just love

watching them

come and go

fuzzy adorable

even the nights

are so easy

bundled up

warm

so warm

we sleep

quick

and quick

to dream

we talk

even in sleep

so nonsense

but so happy

to see u

tomorrow

i wake up

today

every day

i love

these days

with you

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.

Curse

Fear strewn all across the living room

Her quiet aggression-- Mother is angry again.

Screeching and abrasive, her voice echoes in my mind.

Broken

Mother, her hand poised to strike--

Crushing pain in the child's chest

before the rod hits her.

At a Snail's Pace

A child is slain--

his body festers

in the sweltering heat,

a gun is gingerly kept

safe in a ziplock bag.

A mother with dead eyes,

she is on the news,

handed a bag of canned fish,

"It would be good

for what ails-- you,"

she is told, lovingly by

the Vice President herself.

A father in the emergency room,

he has blunt nails-- on bruised hands,

bloody tubes, without a pulse,

bright green motorcycle

in pieces on the highway,

fast food bags scattered

outside a gated community,

his last moments at 2AM

witnessed on the CCTV.

An archipelago in the tropics

from where the locals set sail--

for the deserts

and the snow,

muttering to themselves,

"Change is coming,"

Centripetal

it is summer again like when I first met you

the sun burns and the wind smells of grass

I am laughing again and falling into a sky

so wide and blue the world spins again

so suddenly I am walking in circles

with you unknowingly into a path

going deeper, and darker, the air

condenses onto the cold walls,

and droplets trickle down,

down, my flushed cheeks,

echoing against the walls,

of my beating heart,

my pounding,

against your chest--

I am spiraling

into you, 

into

the deepest chamber,

from where you would sow your seed,

and thunder rumbles.

it is raining again like when I first loved you,

the snails return, laying pink eggs in the grass.

Valentine

"Happy", spelled out in the bold letters across your shirt. Your eyes turned into the usual little open parentheses when you spotted me, unable to hide the smile behind your mask. When I slipped my present into your hand, your face fell.

"I don't have a gift for you!" you cried apologetically as you pulled me in for a hug, "Thank you!"

Paying no mind the crowded restaurant, you spent the evening making me laugh. You loved watching and poking fun at the clumsy way I ate. It was just us in our goofy little bubble.

Taking a walk after the meal, you held my hand tightly, and put your arms around me whenever you could.

(And we talked, love, about spending the rest of our lives together.)

"Happy?" I asked, and you nodded yes.

"Thank you."

Tender

Something warm,

soft, and deliciously

served-- I indulge

in the days

we kiss and we love,

and I let you

slowly peel away

the scabs, hardened

over time.

I see,

it still beats--

my anxious heart.

It bleeds

yet again.

Alas, to be in love.

I indulge.

birthday gift

the other days of the year:

you drove me through

streets winding along

the flower market.

I gazed at the displays,

arrays and bouquets,

of roses, carnations and irises.

while strolling with you

I took photos of blooms,

growing along the street.

you knew i loved them,

but you refused to gift

a love that lives then perishes.

then one special day:

you found your way to say,

"I love you," ardently

in full blossom.

preserved perfectly,

my sunflower in resin

glowing warm light

throughout the night--

my never-wither,

always-with-you,

gift for all time.

A love letter from the depressed on 11/11 at 11:11PM

I used to fall in love

the way one falls asleep--

the sweet, lovely comfort

as one slips

restfully

into the softness

of madness and dreams,

flower petals

in the whirlwind

[then the rude awakening--

abandoned,

cold, shivering,

I would jump awake

eyes straining

in the dark

as he wrests his hand

from my grasp,

and I watch him leave,

shutting the door behind him.]

Years later, wide-eyed

you find me spent

long nights

[heartbroken]

without rest

or reprieve,

you hold me

in my sleeplesness,

under fluorescent lights

at 2AM,

and dreading the dawn

so you lie awake with me

well into the night,

braving my darkest

thoughts, every tear

you let me shed

in your arms,

and I fell

in love with you

the way one awakens

from a nightmare--

I love you, 

my good morning,

my prayer of gratitude,

my sun at daybreak,

I love you,

my cup of chocolate,

my warm showers,

my giver of beautiful,

beautiful days ahead,

I love you.

Sunrise on a Sunday

A soft kiss

spreads warmth

across your cheek,

I watch you stir,

as you half-wake 

to the sound of rustling

of our sheets,

pastel yellow-pink glow

spills into the room,

your eyes barely open,

you frown, squinting

in the dark haze,

your consciousness

still begs for rest,

I touch your face,

caress each eyelid shut,

Go back to sleep, my love,

today, the world can wait.

All Mine

Poetry spares too few words,

and songs end too quickly,

for a love that finally

encompasses worlds

and stretches time--

this love, a love that is all mine.

I wish to write and to write

for you, enough lines

to know what it has been like--

to bask, and to bathe

in the warmth, that light

that you make for me,

day after day after day.

You bring me skies,

you bring me rain,

away from the cities,

and back again,

thunderstorms, and raging seas,

open fields, and urban highways,

yes, in every weather,

and every time of day,

everywhere we stay,

you are my safe place,

my stronghold, my solace.

You hold me, and you calm me

as I flail, and I fall,

my tears and my pain

you catch them all,

in the palms of your hands,

your beautiful, strong hands

that protect me, and hold true

every single promise from you.

These metaphors I may have used

in some previous time, lost and confused,

embroidering many a broken poem--

the hundreds and hundreds of them,

torn apart, then threaded together anew

into this patchwork of poetry of all that I knew

about love-- and everything that it defined

for this weary, broken heart of mine--

They were all written, leading up to you.

So, let me write more and more lines,

perhaps the end of it I shall not let you see,

because for a love that promises infinity,

poetry spares too few words,

and songs end too quickly,

for a love that finally

encompasses worlds

and stretches time--

this love is a love that is all mine.

The Long Drive: To and From Indang, Cavite

The way there:

As we travel South, the West was open sea,

and to the East--fields beyond the eye can see,

June clouds loom low, over skyway and highway,

we brave a perilous road--the lovers' journey.

Soon, sunbeams kissing sweet summer rain

a-pitter-pattering into my heart again,

over steep hills, and under thick branches,

the road is now a long, winding, one-way lane.

The way home:

Underneath the pure, bluer than blue sky,

every cloud hand-painted on by design,

I slept as you drove, the whole way back,

you held your hand tightly in mine.

Back to the place where pain has long gone,

where promises were broken, and dreams foregone,

here we return, heads held high with hope,

that for now, and for life, we will never be alone.