Kay Luna, Kaibigan

(Isinulat noong Nobyembre 2008, sa gitna ng lubos na pagkalito sa kinahahantungan ng pagbabalik ng ating pagkakaibigan.)
 
Mula sa karimlan, muling nagbalik
Pagtanggap may pag-aalinlangan

Mula sa putikan, muling lumitaw
Hinugasang, nagbagong kalooban

Kung kaibigan ang turing
Yayakapin,Walang pagdududa, walang pangamba

Ngunit kapag katagang may hibla ng pag-ibig, sinasambit
At bahid ng nagdaan ipinaalala
Inog ng puso ko'y naiiba.
Umuusbong na pagtitiwala, nabubura.

Ano nga ba ang iyong nararamdaman?
Ano nga ba ang iyong ninanasa?

Tila di mag-aabot ating mga pangangailangan
Tila di magkakatapat, inaasam mula sa isa't-isa.

Hindi ko alam kung dapat pang magpatuloy
Itong pag-aalinlangan, pagtataka, pagtatanong

Kung ako'y lumayo
Sagot ba ito upang maibalik ang kapanatagan,
Manahan, katahimikan ng kalooban?

Ano nga ba, Luna, kaibigan
Ang tunay na kasagutan?

A recurring dream

Most mornings, I wake up knowing I had a dream but promptly forget what it was all about. Some days, I regret not remembering since I get mThe feeling that there was something important there that I missed. In Freudian fashion, I regret missing the messGe,

But today, the dream was so vivid and there were two dreams. I don't know if each one was related to the other or were two separate dreams.

In Dream 1, Ate Lourdes came to the house demanding to see or ask about    g we had  written for the lectors. I kept on asking her whether it was for one project or the other, she didn't answer me but just kep insisting that I show it to her. So while delaying my giving on to her request, I thought there was no choice so I settled to doing. It for her. I actually had it but was just surprised she would come to the house to ask to take a look at it.

Then he dream segued into a ride I would take on a jeepney. I was looking at a large expanse of field which was not attractive . I honk it was part of a resettlement site for squatters. I took the ride without knowing what to expect. From the initially dreary landscape, it be ang to change into greenery and I was supposed to find a pond filled with lotus blooms. A little further on I espied a building which turned out to be a school. It was graduation time and the graduates were dressed on togas. I then saw the group of PhDs waiting for their turn to march up the stage. They seemed so happy. After this view, I awoke.

I woke up smiling immediately knowing that there was a message there for me.

First of all, it was a scene which was quite different from a theme of my recurrent dreams which always had me climbing up buildings and  towers, riding elevators, choosing wrong corridors and floors and  getting lost along the way, never quite finding the end.

Oblivion by Astor Piazzolla brought tears to my eyes! Perfect background music to this dark, lonely, rainy day.

The last full moon

 Sky awash with pale silver blue
Picture perfect, inspiring awe
But I didn't want to look up
As I always used to do on moonlit nights
When I would imagine it was you.

I could not deny your presence,
Softly shimmering
But to behold you would not have been right
You are no longer there for me
Even a stoic glimpse
Risks punishing pain from your light.

Meltdown blues

In the last few weeks, I have found myself many times tottering on the edge of a meltdown. With family and work matters and countless events in my life seemingly conspiring to attack me all at the same time, I just want to escape into a corner of my world and hide there until the conspirators go away. But that is not really me speaking because the person I know that I am would single-handedly fend off the attackers, kick their asses, and send them flying into oblivion.

 All my life, I have chosen to deal with my own troubles. This was a girl who cried behind doors and suffered asthma attacks under blankets so that my family could sleep undisturbed by my wheezing. Even as a child, on top of my own problems, I was conferred the task of solving the entanglements of people around me. It was not something I asked for, the responsibility just seemed to have been encoded in my DNA. While I did not shirk from this, I spent many days wondering why people always seemed to turn to me for help. All of these have of course turned me into, or at least led me to believe, a strong woman who could be relied upon to save the world!

But the me-of-late has become bruised and lame from charging at windmills. It must be my age - giving rise to diminished faculties for processing information of the ambiguous kind. My constant battles with my conscience and painful memories have unearthed vulnerabilities I never knew I had. Everyday now, I realize that there is only so much that can be contained in my daily calendar. Only a limited data that my neurons can handle at top speed.  And not much more disappointments that my wounded heart can take.

There is simply just too much on my plate these days. I wish that even without me asking, those near to me would offer to ease the load. A hug, a kiss, and words of support and understanding will do too.  Oh yes, in the end I believe that everything will be alright. Occasionally, I just need someone to remind me!

The Anatomy of Despair

You don't know exactly where it resides. It's just there piercing your very being. It's a silent hand constricting your throat. Like a coffee-induced allergy that you endure because well, it won't kill you anyway. It weighs down on your head, threatening to let go only if you imbibe drugstore poison. It wrestler-grips your neck and the soft pillows are no help. The shoulders and back, unexplained twisted bundle of muscles and nerves calling for relief. The arms, the leaden legs needing your will to move. Then there is the stone in your heart. 

You don't know exactly why. Maybe the throat is holding back the words that need and want to be said. Maybe the neck is unable to support the weight of recurring insane thoughts and unrealized dreams. Maybe the shoulders and back wish to give up the burden of the Ideal Self. Maybe the limbs dread the journey to the Twilight that has begun. And maybe the heart has no more room for scars.


You don't know exactly how long it lasts. Sometimes it is gone in a flash. Lately, for days and days. It just won't go away. I need for it to go away. Please.


(Published in  Virtual Writer) 

Forgiveness

(From John 8: 1-11)              

So he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She replied, "No one, sir." Then Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, do not sin any more."