Wednesday, December 17, 2014

On wheels, on ice

When I learned
how to skate
and ride a bike,
one went fast,
one took time.
In childhood days
I yearned to glide
like the mouse at a show
in the city one night.
I have watched my brothers
swivel through streets,
wishing I could join them
instead of sitting at the backseat.

First, I was taught to ride a bike
in which many tried to teach me.
In any case, I was always falling down.
Both of my legs sustained a lot
of bruises and injuries.
From then on, mother forbade me
to mount another bike.
Thinking I would be safe
and would no longer be scarred.
It wasn’t until later
in a broken down bike,
when I was on my own
poised on top of a slope,
I lifted my feet off the ground.
Counted the seconds
‘til I moved forward
without ever falling down.
It wasn’t long before
I could push the pedals
One by one.

Skating, on the other hand,
was taught seasons after I grew.
This time though, I attempted
to try something new.
I tried to teach myself
based on the books and pictures I knew.
Alas! After two lapses groping
on the sides of the rink,
I finally called in a coach to assist.
Holding my hands, she held me towards
the center of the ring
and taught me to march ahead,
find the balance from within.
When I finally took a stance,
only then did she show me
how gliding was done.
With feet not too far apart,
slide in opposite direction
one by one.

The day I learned how to bike
and glide a little bit gracefully on ice,
years have passed in between.
But both speak of the same need
for balance, for continuity.
Our youth may have called for some self-efficacy
but to grow is to need others in this journey.
How we can be dependent on one another
yet at times need to be alone on our own!

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Palpitations

The doctor said it was nothing –
I couldn't believe him though.
My heart had squeezed the day before
for reasons unknown.
Tried to steer clear of caffeine,
slept earlier than the owls prescribe.
I even tossed the sheets aside
but nothing made it cease at night.

So he checked my pulse and looked
at me, straight into the eyes.
Calmly, he said –
Let it love.

I went out with a smile.

Wami sa Umaga

Wala na ang dating lugar kung saan tayo
sumilong noong nagdilim ang langit.
Bumuhos nang paunti-unti ang mga patak ng tubig
at binura ang mga naiwang yapak sa sahig.

Wala na rin ang mga pagkai't inuming
nagpabusog sa ating mga tiyan
at nagpatamis nang ating mga usapan
sa sulok ng madalas na ka-ina.

Wala na ang hinanap-hanap na sopas
noong malamig ang simoy ng hangin
na siyang nagpainit sa ating mga katawan
nang papalapit na ang taglamig.

Niluma na ang mga pahayagang iniabot
sa atin ng tindera, na nag-udyat basahin
ang kapalaran minsa'y nasa panig natin
ngunit piniling hindi tayo pagpalain.

...

Wala na ang mga magpapaalala ito
tulad lang ng pagtingin ko sa'yo.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Stirrings

We long held this belief
that conclusions can be made
over a cup of coffee or two.
We've seen people come together
and closer through exotic tastes
brought from corners of the world
we can only dare dream we'd reach someday –
or maybe we'd get there sooner than we expect.
With them, the stories of tropical warmth
to the chilling winter of the seasons they've been
felt real to our own skin.
….

But before we say the binding words,
burn crossed bridges, hook little fingers
declare our liberty, swear our oaths
and scrawl our initials –
swirl ever so slowly
this concoction they left
for us to drink.
Dust the froth with a part of you
that confesseses to make a difference.
Who knows if the prophecy for this century
could be fulfilled by our deepest wishes?


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Maramba

I've set my eyes off deep troubles
off into the middle of the ocean at ease 
I can't help think where no man has gone
even if they always seem to want to take the dip.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

heights

It was a persistent thought I couldn't get out of my system, even while I cocooned myself for more than a week surrounded by flora and wind chimes that tune in to the silent music of the wind. I even took it out for coffee, poised my hand to write some scrawny lines – alas, nothing poured out of the tip of my pen. I couldn't let go, yet I could not live with it either. It was all done, yet it carried a torch to my future, nagging me to this very day, until I did something, anything, perhaps to make amends for putting it off or to simply give more.

The unrest is there. But one thing is clear. It has not been a mere sacrifice – it is a significant contribution, not a staggering ripple of change in society, but still, a deep mark that meant so much to our family.


After all, home is where a heart lives.