finding you

sometimes, i lose myself
in the isles of your words
in them i am naked
to the turnings of seasons

as i trudge the desolate streets
of mornings awash
in tired bodies,
the burden of everyday living
pulling me to the ground,
a distinct awareness
surrounds me
and i am drawn to these byways
as if treading them
for the first time
your presence is unseen
but something familiar
amidst the maze
that helps me trace the path
to your endless shores
gleaming against a sky
cloaked in brooding

whether inside offices or restaurants,
during meetings trying to be coy
or tough, witty or quiet
anything that is laid on the table
can bring me to you
like the wind
chanting your name
for a moment
i slip out to meet you
between the words
and meanings
that bridge or sever us
from what is or what could be
and what could not

deep in thought
and heated arguments
with a cigarette heaving
in weariness
my thoughts fly to that secret
flame in your eyes
consumed, i burn with
the implacable fragrance
of your words

in dusky pubs where noise
and music announce
their kinship,
and memories pound hardest
on my skull,
or even during
the most innocent act
of throwing my head back
in laughter,
suddenly, your name
beckons me
and the tears well up
from hidden oceans,
rippling through spaces
that i seek when i need
to be quiet and still

etched on my furrowed brows
are eternal questions of the world --
who am i, where to go, and why
did the little boy on tv
who breathed poverty
only wished to taste meatloaf –
or of small things like
missing movies,
where to get the rent money,
or being lonely --

but remembering you smoothens
the creases of too much thinking.

my fingers travel along
my forehead down
the bridge of my nose,
pausing timidly
on the corners of my lips
like the shy light of younger days,
then delicately, i trace the outline
of your name

sometimes, when the pain swells
like a sea about to howl
its history
soundlessly, i call you
and the sea shudders with me
and i understand her
as i understand you
and why your words
are all i need
and why i am this way

in between moments
when i am truest to myself
and those when i cannot even
recognize the voice i hear
your words seep right through
these sheets of myself,
like rain they offer solace

for when i touch your words,
i touch the center
of my sorrow –
for i am of your words and your name
they are all i have of you

amidst the rage of twilight
and smoke of discontent
while stars and stones are hurled
against sister and brother
and fire devours those who are weak,
when eyes are pools of murky tears
and mouths are unmoving
and no longer can i breathe
the hatred of it all
i stagger, clutching this heart
broken again and again
into a thousand pieces,
i shut my eyes
surrendering to the void
of unknowing,
which carries me to your arms
i am filled with the strange comfort
in the bosom of your forest
where the wind, the leaves, the trees,
the lakes, the moon, the grass, the rocks
are all sad and kind
as they listen to my murmuring:

immortality in exchange
for a moment
to find you,
to be with
your name,
your words,
and the dream
behind those
words

A memory of bones

I’ve just had my wisdom teeth pulled out and so here I am, buzzed with painkillers and taking a break from lying in the sofa the whole day. It’s a rare thing these days — staying home on a Tuesday, watching afternoon soaps — since I started working full time in September. I’m trying to enjoy this rare but welcome break from the bustle of work, and although my mind is dazed from painkillers, the memories that come visiting on Tuesday afternoons are crystal clear. One of them, the memory of a man I met only through the papers, and whose bones have occupied my dreams for a long time. It was a time before high speed internet and boerenkool, a time of modems and part-time jobs, of roaming the malls in the middle of the day. It was a time when poetry dripped from isaw and stirred in the heat of tropical nights.

“Here Lies Everyman,” sabi sa caption ng litrato ng matandang lalaking namatay
sa ilalim ng LRT sa tapat ng PGH

Tatang

tatang, ano’ng pangalan niyo? at saan
kayo nakatira? ibig kong sabihin,
bago kayo nagpaampon sa kalsada,
mayroon din ba kayong pamilya,
kaibigan, sinisinta?
ano po bang nangyari, at bakit kayo naglagalag?
tulad niyo ba akong hindi alam
ang patutunguhan,
o wala na kayong mapuntahan?

Tatang, bakit di ko kayo nakita?
lagi ko namang binabaybay ang ilalim
ng lrt tapat ng pgh, pero
maski anino ninyo sa sulok
ng aking mata’y – wala!
yung iba namang matanda,
pinagliliwanag ang usukang kalsada
ng kanilang mga ngiti,
o kaya’y binabasag ang hangin
ng kanilang malamlam na tingin.
meron din naghahasik ng lumbay
sa kanilang bawat kay bagal
na paggalaw —

pero kayo, ‘tang,
wala kayong hinabilin.

di ko man lang kayo nabigyan
ng pangalan, o istorya, o kasama –
hindi kayo nagparamdam
sa inyong paglisan.

pumanaw kang nakatalikod sa aming lahat.

wala kang iniwang alaala
maliban sa litrato ng iyong mga
pambihirang buto.
animo’y likhang-sining,
kay kisig ng hugis,
binabanat ang balat,
o mahigpit bang niyayakap?

tatang, iniwan mo akong namamangha.
sinakop ang aking panaginip
ng pangitain ng iyong kahanga-hangang
naghuhumiyaw
na mga
buto.