Evening Rain

The storm had passed

and left pellet marks of rain

to my parched earth. An afterglow

radiating and pulsating

 

with warmth of whispers

and silent promises

about the sea of softness

under the night clouds.

 

Like the shepherd moon

it clings in the presence of moments,

of minutes and hours, sweet

love talk by the angels of youth.

 

Words, words I have to rinse away

thereafter- extinguish this flame.

Long before the dawn breaks

the transience of tenderness.

 

My intimate surrender.

Read Full Post »

Bye Bye, Yellow Butterfly

Came down the confetti

among the concrete gardens

of skyscrapers in the city

we embrace-

the promise of freedom

remembering the days

when you conquer

the hearts of men.

Frail and afraid

among the chains,

blind slaves to tyranny.

 

Bye, bye

yellow butterfly.

 

Flutter your wings

amidst the tempest

set free, unafraid

of your glory-defining

turbulent life.

 

Like the many yellow

ribbons tossed in the wind,

a salutation to dawn.

An ode to the beauty

of your kindred spirit.

 

Bye, bye

yellow butterfly.

T’was a long,

long way journey home.

Fly away graciously

among the angels

heaven bound.

Read Full Post »

Return to Innocence

A neighbor who lives nextdoor had a caged lovebird hanging in the hallway in our apartment.  I was awakened one morning by its relentless chirping as if I was awakened by some familiar bird songs I once heard from my hometown’s parish church.  There was a surging of long distant emotions that was laid dormant through all these years.  A sanctified feeling of saintly wonder. The innocence of a child in his first communion.

In my reverie I remember that I was walking down there on the aisle to accept God. An obedience to one of His blessed sacraments.  Dressed in white, I clasped both hands as a sign of my faith, allegiance and devotion.  I remember the reverberating sound of the church organ, the ringing of the church bells, the whispered recitation of the rosary, the faint glow of the communion candles, the gleaming chandeliers above, the nauseating fragrance of gardenias, the painted figures of saints up in the ceiling, the adorned relics at the altar, the divine light that streams through the stained glass windows, the choir’s angelic voices and that familiar bird song.  All these things had engulf this child’s frailty. 

I felt afraid. Not because of the magnanimity of that space in which a child like me could not grasp. But because of the idea that I am surrendering to a God that can’t be seen.  That can’t be touched.  How could I ever let this Unknown guard and shield me, while knowing that I am in fact, facing each day without a father and a mother by my side?

But there is this divine force that has swept over me. An assuring voice that gently whispered,  herein I will find refuge and a constant companion.  That herein, is someone who will watch over me and will listen to every word I have to say. And I think then, that the birds perched at the church’s clerestory are my divine witnesses. Like angels in their joyful throng.  Singing their sweet songs as if revelling that another has triumphed to find favor in His sight.

From then on up to this age, I have tried to chase the divine light and that familiar bird song among the many churches I have been to.  To say my silent prayers. To ask for guidance. 

But I have grown impatient over the years. Trying to recollect that innocent moments I have felt during my first communion.  But it never repeated itself.  They are just some fleeting feelings of spirituality that meant little to me.

And these feelings had grown into spiritual discontent. Discontent among spiritual wolves cloaked in the veil of fractured holiness.  Of self-proclaimed shepherds misleading their own flock. Of ministers who pretended like kings in the higher places.  Of preachers who viewed the church as their fiefdom. Of this world’s manufactured spirituality.

I fled away. Far away and shield myself from the magnanimity of this world’s hypocrisy. Even in church, that once I thought to be my refuge.

Gone are those moments of that child-like faith. Gone are those moments that God communicates so closely and the doors of heaven are open for the innocent prayers I used to say. 

And there in the hallway, by the morning light,  I pulled a chair to sit beside that lovebird in the cage and listen to its chirping. I don’t know how long I am sitting there and drifted away from this realm. But what I felt is that I am ushered back to that same place where once, my innocence had been. And I felt that God is clasping my little fragile hands into His. The divine light and the bird song has finally returned by my side.

I just hope that this lovebird be loosened and set free from this cage, someday. Like me.  And savor freedom on its wings and fly. Basking in the splendid streams of sunlight. So divine.

Read Full Post »