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Posts Tagged ‘us’

I sense a dark storm is looming over.

Someone told me that I should not be afraid

of all the tragedy impending.  Even if the winds

blow me empty at will, I should not cower.

There are intruders- those unwelcomed visitors

breaking and entering the skin I lived in.

 

I forgot the keys, my memory slips

down in the labyrinth of forgetting.

I search for clues, deciphering a code

among the pages in the book of days.

 

I misplaced the sign- “don’t disturb”

among the shards of broken plates,

of broken glasses in the kitchen.

Where did I put our picture frame?

 

I can only hear whispers from strangers

whose faces I have seen for the first time.

Ruling my house as if they’re kings and queens

breaching  a territory, our serfdom of privacy.

 

I blame these disrespectful marauders

for letting me swim deeper into the pool.

I got tangled in the maze,  finding myself.

Don’t they know it’s an abyss down here?

 

Don’t they know how it feels to get lost

sinking deeper among piles and boxes

of photographs, of letters, searching-

a faint remembrance of the two of us.

 

They keep on robbing me of something.

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Today. I start

bringing in new logs

I felled from my fortress.

I will coat them anew

in fresh paint of goodwill.

I will securely fasten

each wooden plug,

each wooden cleat,

each wooden brace

to build us a stronger span.

Against the strong winds

and the storm that will try

to bring us down.

 

I will fortify the foundation,

reinforcing the tablet of stones-

your kind words into my memory.

As the arch of my hands

stretches out to reach you,

in peace.

 

Gone are the moments

when anger flickers

like flames of fire

among us. Gone

are the days

of charred remains-

the ebony nights, in tears.

Of the years when

turbulent waters

divide us. I start

 

to mend the bridges

I burned before.

That is to say, I am

opening the carriageway

of warm exchanges-

crossing to your side,

once again.  Someday.

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Here I am, intending to break

your mirror in my disgust.

By letting you understand

my need to understand you.

I  am squeezing and inching

my way closer to your smoky eyes.

As I am trying to pass through

but you won’t absorb. Me.

 

There’s a part of you

I can’t unlock. You won’t

let me fill. I am a stranger.

 

You shield something away

like the night clouds. That even

the slight sincerity of words

were moondust refracted

into the air.  I keep on clearing

the cobwebs of frosted thoughts

and sand-blasted shadows

of doubt between us.

 

Let me stripped you down

stark naked. Fleshing you

out of your reptilian skin.

Your chameleon cloak you keep

on wearing everyday I don’t need.

What needs to be visible- be seen,

transparent and undividing.

I want your honesty.

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I can tell

that you begin to affect me

with words. Waxing emotional

in this little chat. I gave you

painful seconds each time

whining those lame excuses.

While I’m faking.

 

You didn’t notice

how I read and begin

to memorize your way

of masking the shame

in these crying games.

Only to find that words

have no meaning

and will fall dead

sounds to my ears.

Believing

 

I found an ocean.

Of reason proving

my every doubt-

if all the things you said

are ever real?

 

The distance between us

became mountain upon mountain

of shadows blurring

my wall of trust.

You didn’t notice.

 

Lie resurfaces again.

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We fail to keep promises

just as we are used to

stare like goats. Upfront

confronting strangers.

 

Inside this hallowed cavern

with  a burden of care while  

we share those empty gaze.

Needing to belong.

 

We don’t even dare

to twitch a smile- as a sign.

Filling void spaces to fit.

Caged and restrained

 

our little freedom.

Moving and hurrying

to destinations, crowding

one way streets like ants.

 

Knee to knee. Side by side.

Wanting to repel, burst

into the open, running away

with the world past behind us.

 

We fail to stay as we are.

Outpacing each other.

Chasing the dust cleared

of promises we can’t keep.

 

Finding it hard to believe

it was only inches away,

that we ought to  try

mending this great divide.

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I came from the east

And you from the west.

The space between us

is an empty canvas.

 

Our footsteps were

unsure scribbling of lines.

 

Our lives were

charcoal grey sketches.

 

Our beings were

liquid pigments, pressed

out of  tube-like existence.

 

Paint the words

written by fate.

Our union pre-destined.

 

Our spirits would soon

penetrate this world,

transforming our bond

from this obscure surface.

 

Like criss-crossing layers

of texture and dimension.

 

Your blood. And my blood.

A  miscegeny of colors

gradually  revealing

order and balance,

forms and figures,

sizes and shapes.

 

Blending fragiled fibers

of our soul, framed into

a work of art.

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I once had the chance to swim the Pasig River when I was just about five or six, I guess.  An uncle, who was a robust teenager that time, invited by his friends, tagged me along with him one afternoon.  We walked across J.P Rizal street and descended some flight of steps going to the not-so-murky water.

Uncle led my hand and told me not to be afraid. And when we dipped ourselves into the water, I felt the river current slowly pushing its force against my fragile frame. Suddenly uncle let go of his hand, and I was left wading by myself. He just laughed and laughed, along with his friends to see me panicking and gasping for breath. When I was just about to submerge into the water, he just snatched my hand in time and landed me safely back to the steps.

I was panting heavily as I watched amazingly to uncle and his friends vigorously swimming against the river current. Hoping that I could grow instantly  and have the strength to swim as long as I wish. 

But when aunt, uncle’s big sister, learned of our little river escapade, she scolded uncle for taking me down to the river, saying that the polluted water could make me more sick.  And aunt blares her disappointment at the two of us and told  me that it is too dangerous to swim in Pasig River, and I could get myself drowned.  My mother has allowed me to stay at aunt’s home for the summer to have my routinary medical EENT checkups. 

I just kept on listening to my aunt’s endless rant to uncle and heard her say that she was really disappointed with me and could send me right away back home. But I just  smiled  and throw a toothy grin to uncle, silently thanking him for taking me down the river.

I am thanking him for expanding the fragiled radius of my being. A new-found freedom, to allay fear of not sizing up to what other boys of my age can do. I don’t want my being sickly hamper the extent of what I can do. To belong and be accepted to a fraternal brotherhood like uncle’s.  And it is a feat that begins my tearing down of the walls of my sheltered existence.  A youthful independence. 

I am thanking him, because that’s when I have learned to stand up and defend myself when I am being wronged. To keep up heading on even when the circumstances are getting against me like a fierce river current drowning all the strength I could muster.  To exceed the limitations of what my mind tells me that I can only achieve that much.

As a child then, I believe, most of us, have become warriors against our own. When we have learned how to be brave even when we were afraid and often get discouraged.  When we  are walking out there in the world,  somewhere, winning our inner battles and living uncertainly day by day, and never giving up. 

Pasig River is my Rubicon,  where a warrior child in me has been borne out of the mighty rush of the river current while bailing myself out for survival. An invisible force pushing me to edge out and discover frontiers I have never been to before, now possible and within reach.    

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