Premortem

As I wandered through the bustling mall, the vibrant energy around me only seemed to amplify the silence within. I watched children laugh and play, completely absorbed in their own world, and it struck me—they were fine without me. Each step felt like a reminder of the emptiness that had taken root deep in my soul. 

Losing my kids had taken more than just my beloved—it had stolen my sense of purpose, leaving me adrift. The world continued to move, full of life and laughter, while I stood still, a shadow searching for meaning in the void that remained. 

Now, I find it hard to grasp any reason to keep going. I am tired—tired in a way that words can’t reach—and I don’t want to begin again. Life moves forward without me, and I wonder if I belong anywhere at all.

Sumamo

Giliw,

Hindi man natin alam kung ano ang taglay ng bukas magkasama natin itong lakbayin at asahan ang pangako niyang bukang liwayway.

Ikaw, na aking ngayon, na aking kahapon, ang sinag, ang alab, ang liyag ng aking buhay, ang tangi kong minimithi na makasama hanggang sa paghupa ng panahon.

Magkabigkis ang lakbay noon pa man, pinagsama ng oras at tadhana ang buhay natin.

Na habang buhay na tayong hindi magiisa- iyan ang inaasahang pangako - ang sumamo, ang pagmamakaawa, ang sigaw ng pabulong sa tuwing nakapatay na ang ilaw.

Napakarami pa. Napakarami pa tayong dapat pagsamahan - sakit, saya, tawa, iyak, away, bati. Madami pa tayong dapat pag usapan - tungkol sa mga bata, sa buhay, sa kanila, sa atin.

Madami pa tayong dapat hindi pagusapan - mga oras na tahimik at walang imik. Mga oras na basta't katabi ka ay sapat na.

Tara, sinta. Sabay natin harapin ang takipsilim at maghintay sa darating na umaga.

Halika na, sasamahan kita. Sasamahan kita at hindi ako bibitaw.

Para sa iyo.

Halika anak, maglakbay tayo. Samahan mo ako habang may panahon tayo. Samahan mo akong harapin ang lahat ng ibibigay ng kapalaran sa atin.

Samahan mo ako, sabay nating tuklasin ang mundo na kalalakhan mo.

Samahan mo ako, baybayin natin and bawat sulok ng ilog ng tadhana natin.

Alam ko, balang araw, ay kukulangin tayo ng panahon. Pero sa ngayon, samahan mo ako.

Halika anak, andirito lang kami ng nanay mo. Dito sa umaga ng iyong buhay, nangangako, na wala kang pagsisidlan ng pamamahal na ibubuhos namin sa 'yo.

Samahan mo kami, habang may oras tayo.

Halika anak, maglakbay tayo. Maglakad tayo, sa piling ng mga tala at alon. Samahan mo ako dito sa dalampasigan ng bukas at kahapon.

Dekada

Isang dekada na pala tayo.

Sampung taon na pala ang lumipas simula ng inumpisahan natin itong lakbay na 'to.

Ang tagal na pala.

Ang dami na rin pala nating pinagdaanan- tawa, tuwa, luha, pagod, pumasa, bumagsak, kinasal, nabuntis, nanganak.

Ang tagal na pala natin. Ang galing no?

Parang kailan lang nag-iinuman lang tayo. Ngayon, puro dede na lang ng bata ang pinapa-inum natin.

Parang kailan lang pinaplano lang natin ang magiging buhay natin- pangalan ng anak, kasal, bahay. Ngayon, meron na tayong anak ( makulit slight ), kasal na tayo at wala pa rin tayong bahay.

Naalala mo pa ba noong una tayo nagumpisa mag-usap? Noong una natin nalaman, dahan dahan, sa bawat lagok ng alak na iniinom natin na tayo pala ay mag kasing utak?

Naalala mo pa ba kung gaano tayo kasaya nung namalayan natin, sa pag-uusap natin, na tayo pala? Tayo na pala.

Naalala ko noon, tuwang-tuwa tayo dahil naging tayo ng halos wala tayong kinalaman- yung natural at parang nanonood lang tayo. Sabi natin, pinagtagpo lang siguro Niya tayo.

Ang dami na nating pinagdaanan. Biruin  mo, sabay na natin nararamdaman na dahan-dahan sumasakit ang mga kasu-kasuan natin.

Tumatanda na tayo ng sabay.

Tumatanda na tayo. Syet.

Ang dami na nating naranasan, at andito na tayo ngayon, madami pang dadanasin- hirap, saya, tawa, tuwa.

Isang dekada na pala tayo Len.

Samahan mo ako, panoorin natin lumaki ang anak natin, mag-aral, gumradweyt, ikasal, magka-pamilya- kung gusto nya.

At pag umalis na siya sa poder natin, samahan mo pa rin ako. Pag-awayan natin kung sino ang nakalimot magkandado ng pinto, kung sino ang nag-iwan na bukas ang Gasul®, o 'di kaya, kung saan nailagay ang pustiso. Tapos, pagtawanan natin ang mga pinagsimulan ng mga away  natin.

Samahan mo ako panoorin ang indak ng tadhana hanggang sa huling hibla ng oras natin dito.

Samahan mo 'ko- tumanda, tumawa, umiyak, mangarap, sumuko, lumaban, magtagumpay.

Samahan mo ako Len, habang inaalala natin yung buhay natin dati, noong isang dekada pa lang tayo.

Tara na. May ilang dekada pa.

Saudade

I leave my heart to you when I go - off to heartless places and faceless people. I leave my heart to brave the daily grind of the day. I brave blank stares and blank hellos, conversations and facts, made empty and meaningless by the fact that I am far away from you. 

As the day goes on to what seems like an eternity, my mind travels to you and the fact that I am not there.
I would like to say to people that I should not be here. I am supposed to be somewhere else.

I should be with my heart before she grows up. 

As I make my way back to you my being screams haste.

I would like to say, "Drive fast, driver. Drive like you've never driven before. I need to go back to my heart and laughter quick."

I need to go back to my heart before she sleeps.

Because I know that when I get home I will be whole, with nothing more than a smile from her.

I, after the aftermath of the day, will be happy.

Wait for me dear, daddy's coming home.

" Having a kid is like falling in love for the first time when you're 12 but only it's everyday. " - Mike Myers on Fatherhood

Post Partum

What I have learned about having a child is that you get to do something that is beyond your own life. It is stepping outside your own, dare I say, selfish goals. My daughter has given me more just by being there than any personal achievement could. She has
added depth to my life- a purpose, a reason.

A Letter To My Daughter

I am sitting here at my desk toiling away the hours to you. After waiting for ages you are finally and fatefully coming home. Tala, I cannot fully explain all the things that I am feeling right now. Ever since your Mom and I started this escapade of ours, we have been patiently waiting for you. And now we are at the precipice of a lifetime with you. I don’t know how to explain this, everything was unwittingly transformed. It is quite surprising how quickly my perspective has changed. Your coming is like a quick jolt to the head. Suddenly nothing else matters anymore. Abruptly, all those things that I have been religiously reaching for seem so petty now. All that matters is you. Unexpectedly, my world is where it should be. The pieces have fallen into place and I know now where I should go. I am, and forever will be, grateful for chancing upon such beautiful serendipity.

My mind has been racing for stuff that I would like to tell you.
So I made the following list about some things that might be important, lest I forget:



1. Don't trust monkeys. They may seem cute and cuddly but they will steal your glasses and eat them in front of you once they get the chance.
2. Forgive me if I seem overly protective at times. Know that I’m just dead scared that something bad might happen to you.
3. Understand that this is my first time raising a daughter. Know that I'm probably just making rules up as I go along. I probably have no idea what to do most of the time.
4. Dance. Music is the soundtrack of our lives.
5. Know that your mom and I are madly in love with you.
6. Go to the beach. A lot.
7. Be independent in your opinions. If something seems wrong it probably is.
8. Be kind to yourself. Things may not always go according to plan. That's okay.
9. Pray. Pray a lot. Nurture a relationship with God. There will be times in your life when faith and hope will be all you have. Cling to them viciously.
10. Never allow anyone tell you how to serve God. Most of these people don't know what they're talking about.
11. Don't trust boys. They may seem cute and cuddly but they're not. Stay away from them. I mean it.
12. When in a fight, always remember these three things; Speed, Surprise and Violence of Action. Once started, commit to the action.
13. Don't put too much importance on the opinion of others about you. These things do not matter.
14. Stay away from negative people. They are just clutter in your life.
15. Love.
16. Emotions are overrated. Don't let them rule your life. Hold people accountable only for what they did and not how they made you feel.
17. Never try cutting a balloon string with matches. You'll regret it. Trust me.
18. Once a month you are mandated to buy any one toy from the toy store. Choose wisely.
19. Whenever a hard decision comes along go back to the basics. Label things as right and wrong then do the right thing, even if it's hard.
20. There will be times that your Mom and I will disagree. Sorry about that.
21. One day, I will tell you the story of how your mom and I fell for each other. It’s a good one.
22. When in an ambush, get out of the kill zone at whatever cost.

23. Forgive yourself.
24. Once in a while read a good book.
25. Never ever start smoking. You’ll regret it bigtime.
26. Don't get drunk, especially around boys.
27. Play. Have fun. Life is supposed to be, and is, beautiful.
28. You can try climbing mountains. It's a great way to clear your head. Maybe someday we can climb together, if I'm not that old when that time comes.
29. When it is time for you to choose your partner, never force it. This choice must come freely and naturally. Listen to fate. Be glad even if things don’t happen the way you thought they would.
30. Don't ride carabaos. They freak out easily and run when scared.
31. Know that everything, and I mean everything, happens for a reason.
32. Be humble.
33. Someday let’s share a beer together.
34. Love your mom. She has been through a lot.
35. Love me more.

You'll probably figure out that you can get almost anything you want because your Mom and I are such suckers for you. Be gentle with us. Please.

Having said that, all we have to do now is wait. Wait for the day when we will finally meet each other. Let us start this lifetime of a journey. We will be seeing you very soon Tala.

3/1/12

I guess this is it. Let's see what fate awaits me on the other side.

A Requiem For Last Night

Suddenly I am awake.

I call for you.

I fumble in the dark to find your hand.

I turn on the light hoping to see you beside me.

You are not there.

I have lost you.

You have flown far away, never to return.

And I will have to spend the rest of my days in desperate longing.

Why have you hidden yourself from me?

You have doomed me to solitude.

I am terrified.

Then I realize that you are not really gone.

That you are probably sleeping in your room.

But even though I tell myself that it was not real, my soul is still skeptical.

It is not appeased.

And I, still sore from the loss, try to go back to dreaming.

Do not ever leave again.

Standing on the edge of everything I've never been before.

(click this!)

The weather wept for the weatherman last night. Farewell Tatay. Your bride has been waiting for you. You'll only have sunny days with Nanay from now on.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot.

The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.

Alexander Pope, "Eloisa to Abelard"

Fait Accompli

It is said that if a koi succeeded in battling up the Yellow River and then climbing the last waterfall at a point called Dragon's Gate, it would transform into a dragon.

How does one even begin to describe this?

It was like a bad relationship that you couldn't get out off.

A mad and sordid love affair.

A really bad drug habit.

I am not saying that this was how it was for everyone, but this was how it was for me.

You see, it was against my nature to study. I was not a koi fish, I was more like a cat. Teaching a cat how to swim would have been a noteworthy act in itself, but making it go up a river was another thing. You could try, but it would take a hell of a lot of time. Like the cat was to water, I didn't have a natural affinity for books.

Before you start reading this, if you please, forgive the drama.

I remember that I entered this mad race as a choice, a right of passage, if you will.

Little did I know that it would become this long and protracted war of attrition with myself.

They said that you find God in law school, but they forgot to tell me that you might lose him there too. It is where you learn that you could only find God during the darkest of hours.

Because in law school, you lose your faith a thousand times, but you will have to gain it back a thousand and one more.

It is where you learn more about your indomitable spirit than the letter of the law. Where you scrutinize, criticize and dissect every bit of yourself just to find out what the hell went wrong.

It is where you break yourself and start from scratch each and every day. Where you burn out long before the battle is over. Where you concede again and again and then pick yourself up within the span of one freakin' hour. And after all that, you would have to wring your being for what little strength you have left to move forward.

It is where you grow callused and bruised and tattered and old.

And I do feel very very old.

I had to lose and rebuild myself in law school.

But do not get me wrong. It wasn't all that bad.

Every heartache made success even more luscious and palpable and sweet.

Every disappointment made you stronger and more capable .

And without even noticing it, you become someone who is so far from where you started.

That was law school for me. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I am better now.

I am stronger. The best swimming cat around.

And now it is done.

I have finished that which I have branded, a million times over, as something that I will never be able to finish. It means that all those years spent will never and did not go to waste. It amounted to something.

I have crossed the Yellow River.

And even though this last waterfall seems like a deep unfathomable chasm,

I am ready to take it on and move all in.

They say that it is only at the precipice that we find the courage to change.

Dumaan Ako

Berso #2
ni Maningning Miclat
(1972-2000)

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay mahulog
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.

Kung mag-isa ako ay huwag nang isipin
Sa dilim ay dapat pa akong hanapin
Habang may luha ay huwag pang ibigin
Sa pangarap ko ay huwag nang gisingin.

Kaya kong maghintay sa mga tula mo
Makinig sa awit mula sa kabilang dako
At tuklasin sa paglalakad na ito
Hamog at luha ng bulaklak at damo.

Mapapanood ang sayaw ng tutubi
Mapapakinggan ang ibong humuhuni
Hihinahon ang pusong hindi mapakali
At hihimlay na sa mapayapang gabi.

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay nahulog
Parang ang puso ko nga itong nadudurog
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.

(Click to watch music video)

Music by Cynthia Alexander and Joey Ayala

Trenta

Grabe. Tatlong dekada na pala akong nabubuhay sa mundo.

Tatlong dekada na pala ang lumipas simula nang namboso si kuya ng nurse sa ospital habang nanganganak ang nanay ko.

Tatlong dekada na rin pala akong palutang-lutang na parang pulang lobong walang pupuntahan.

'Di ba yung trenta ay edad ng mga mamang nag-iinuman sa kanto? Dapat ba nagsusuot na rin ako ng polo na nakabukas at mapula ang dibdib ta's amoy alak?

Well, nakapagbayad naman na ako ng income tax kahit papaano. Hindi naman ako siguro katulad nila.

Madami-dami na rin pala akong napangarap sa buhay--doctor, engineer, titser--at meron din na panahon na pinangarap kong maging tambay. At least 'yun natupad nang sandali.

Nangarap din nga pala akong maging journalist, alam niyo ba 'yun? Natapos ko naman 'yung kurso, kaya lang nung nag-apply ako, no takers--going once, going twice--fine. 'di 'wag. Napakaganda naman kasi ng transcript ko--puro palakol. Hindi ko naman kasi alam na tinitingnan pala 'yun pag nag-a-apply. Sayang, kung natuloy 'yun eh di makikita ko sana ang sarili ko sa TV, sa gitna ng bagyo o 'di kaya sa gitna ng mga nagbabatuhan sa rally sa Mendiola. Ta's sasabihin ko, "Eto po si [insert name here], nag-uulat!

Astig sana 'yun.

Gusto ko rin sana maging sundalo--first love ko talaga 'yun. Kaya lang sabi ng tatay ko ayos na ang may isang sundalo sa pamilya. OK lang, ayoko rin namang umitim.

Madami-dami na rin pala akong pinangarap. Madami-dami na rin and hindi natupad. Para pala akong pulitiko.

Naalala ko nung bata ako, dinala ako ng nanay ko dun sa bumbay sa Session Road, sa Tiongsan ata yun. Tiningnan ng bumbay 'yung noo ko, sabi niya marunong daw ako. Naniwala naman ang nanay ko. Malay ko ba kung gusto lang makabenta kaya nya sinabi 'yun. Siguro, kung tiningnan niya yung flipside ng noo ko, i.e., batok, eh malamang sinabi niya na "Ay kaya lang may katamaran pala. Sorry."

Naalala ko rin noong inangat nila ako from prep to kinder, advanced daw kasi ako. Hindi lang siguro nila na-realize na puro SPED lang talaga 'yung mga kaklase ko, at ako, normal lang. Kung alam ko lang na sa edad na trenta anyos eh nag-aaral pa rin ako, sana tinodo ko na 'yung pag-aadvance para quits-quits lang, 'di ba?

Pero 'wag kayo masyado mag-alala. Meron naman akong isa pang pangarap at medyo mukha namang matutupad. Sana, hopefully, sa awa ng Diyos ay maging abugado na ako. Apparently, okey lang ang dalawang abugado sa pamilya--sundalo, bawal.

Sana talaga pumasa ako para pwede ko nang tawagin ang sarili ko na "a respectable member of society." Maganda kasing pakinggan eh.

Naalala niyo ba dati nung tinatanong tayo na "What do you want to be when you grow up?" tapos sasagot ka ng "astronaut!" Eh kung alam ko lang na ganito pala ang kahihinatnan ko, sana sinabi ko na lang na "Aba, malay ko."

Pero sana, sana talaga, eto na yun. Eto na yung isasagot ko sa "What I want to be when I grow up" na matutupad. Kaya lang grown-up na pala ako. OK lang. At least, malapit-lapit na mangyari.

Trenta na pala ako. Bad trip ang tanda ko na.

As the midnight breeze puddles in my thoughts

I am reborn.

a forecast of apprehension

A storm is brewing.

I think we, as a people, can feel it.

It’s as if our collective consciousness is feeling the void of morality in our nation.

Because now all there is is wanton greed and lust for power.

We are bleeding for our dying country.We thirst for the pride that we now so desperately cling to.

A storm is brewing and you see the signs everywhere.

Morality now is the call and we no longer put our trust so easily on our leaders.Everywhere you can see a renewed sense of nationality.

Because of the absence of a leader who can heave us from our demise the people have turned to one of the few things left that define and unite us

– our flag.

Shirts bearing the signs of our flag, images of our country and symbols of our forefathers who died zealously for this piece of earth that has nurtured our race, can be seen everywhere.

This symbol defines everyone of us as brothers.

This symbol unites us against a common foe.

Our flag has been a call to arms of countless battles for our freedom.And now, at a time when our grief has turned to apathy, our flag is making itself manifest again.

The storm is sure to come and we know not what lies ahead.

We fear the change that is to come.For change may not be always good.There are many who will take the advantage of our sorrow.We must be vigilant.

One thing is certain.

Change is coming.And we must all brace ourselves.

Our flag is being raised once again– a silent call to arms.

We, the people, are unintentionally mustering our forces.

funeral blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-W. H. Auden

on remembering

It has been four years since I started this blog. Four years since you evoked in me an awareness of summer sunsets and silent conversations. It has been four years since we started playing our dance, our poetry, our song of dragonflies and flight.

A lot has happened since then.

I try to remember our first summer, our summer of floating endlessly and aimlesly into anywhere our conversations might take us. I remember bus rides into unknown destinations with no other company except you and our talk. I remember beach mornings and us literally drifting into sea. I remember dear, our bursting laughter, our deep drinking sessions till daybreak. I remember our mountaintop. I remember why we came to be.

I am happy.

Of course there were tremors but I forget- we always were short of memory when it came to those things.

I am still happy. We still have our fits of laughter every now and then whenever our minds would allow us to wander into our bubble. We still find time to fly, every once in a while.

I am happy, that you are here with me as I write this, still with me, still ready to take flight again.

So I will stop this senseless rambling now and join you on this hill that we have for two.

my piedra

Sometimes I search for words that would evoke a melancholy tone to my days. I search for words to roll over my tongue again and again till I commit to memory every niche of the piece-until it's effect on me wears out and I grow tired of it. I do not know why I do this, maybe It's the summer heat that compels me, maybe it's just the way I am.

Paulo Coehlo gave me one such tone- a gift of grief and closure.

I would like to share with you this masterpiece of his. It is, well, let's just say, a snippet of brilliance - it's the only part of the book that I enjoyed. I do not know why this part grew out to be so different from the rest of the work. All I know is that it is the first chapter of the book and it is beautiful to the tongue.

"By the river Piedra I sat down and wept. There is a legend that everything that falls into the waters of this river--leaves, insects, the feathers of birds--is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed. If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget.

By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. The winter air chills the tears on my cheeks, and my tears fall into the cold waters that course past me. Somewhere, this river joins another, then another, until--far from my heart and sight--all of them merge with the sea.

May my tears run just as far, that my love might never know that one day I cried for her. May my tears run just as far, that I might forget the River Piedra, the monastery, the church in the Pyrenees, the mists, and the paths we walked together.

I shall forget the roads, the mountains, and the fields of my dreams--the dreams that will never come true.

I remember my "magic moment"--that instant when a "yes" or a "no" can change one's life forever. It seems so long ago now. It is hard to believe that it was only last week that I had found my love once again, and then lost her.

I am writing this story on the bank of the River Piedra. My hands are freezing, my legs are numb, and every minute I want to stop.

"Seek to live. Remembrance is for the old," she said.

Perhaps love makes us old before our time--or young, if youth has passed. But how can I not recall those moments? That is why I write--to try to turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance. So that when I finish telling myself the story, I can toss it into the Piedra. That's what the woman who has given me shelter told me to do. Only then--in the words of one of the saints--will the water extinguish what the flames have written.

All love stories are the same."

Here's a picture of my cat.

of us

I cannot write about us.

I cannot write because it would only prove futile.

I can’t because trying to paint our splendor would give dawn

only to a desperate imitation of this beauty.

No, words cannot give color to our reality.

Words, again, will only fail us.

This is not about love.

Our love has constantly been at this juncture- searching.

No, this is not about love, this is about something much deeper.

This, has always been, about being found.

You once asked me why fate had to go out of her way just to bring us together,

why were we that significant to her.

Perhaps because once she had already failed, with dire consequences,

to entangle our spirits of before.

And we became two hapless souls locked in eternal longing for their halves.

Lamenting somber symphonies of solitude.

Perhaps that was the reason why we both became authors.

- to forever harp our elegies of loss.

And we can only imagine the tragedy our pasts had suffered an existence before.

We paid for her inaction.

Maybe, like us, fate was also searching.

Though, searching for her own redemption.

This is the only explanation I can give you.

Because we knew, us, long before we met.

Probably that was why we felt lost even in the arms of our others.

since we, desperately and miserably, tried to find traces of us in them.

We have been probing lifetimes for each other.

And we have been searching even before our beginning,

across countless lives, lost in painful burning,

we almost forgot our vow to be found.

Desolately gasping for us, unbound by time.

we have been apart for so long, deprived of life,

we couldn’t have recognized each other

if fate hadn’t forced us to witness

that we, finally, crossed paths

- we finally were entwined.

Perhaps that was why we no longer felt the need to make new promises.

- we just remembered our old ones.

Maybe that was why we were born with no necessity to take root

- we were already kindred spirits long before, only without form.

Now, my dearest, now that fate has found her deliverance,

now that we have been suddenly found,

perhaps, finally, we can stop our mourning.

And now faithfully forget our misgivings for providence.

We, at last found, can be lost in each other.

Again finally lost.

an explanation of sorts about weight, birth, contradiction and fortuitous events

I had just started planting my roots back to Mother Earth when something interesting caught my eye- a fluttering suggestion of commonality. I met with the suggestion and suggested a bottle or two, and, to my surprise, found many more fluttering commonalities.

So that’s how it all started, nineteen empty bottles with missing bottle caps.

At this point I found out that my newfound quaint drudgery of life was starting to present too much stillness. So when such occasions approached I fell consciously to you and our quiet conversations, ending only because of the urgency of the looming sunrise. Claiming my daily dose of intellectual pregnancy, leaving well fed and satisfied.

Quaint drudgery or what Milan Kundera defined as the Unbearable Lightness of Being, if I understood him correctly, bore on me like heavy luggage. Such lightness, at first, was appealing- quiet, unrestricted and rational. But, as our sittings became customary, and our consultations became engaging, I found your presence cramping my days with weight.

Now, unfortunately, life weight affects me in a very peculiar manner- I float.

Maybe I got Milan’s point backwards. I’m not sure.

But as you add weight I float. My feet gently leave Terra Firma.

It was only a matter of time before our dialogues gave birth to us. We came into being on the twenty-third or twenty-fourth, depending on how you read your time or how high my blood alcohol level might be, under vague terms of agreement. The exact time of our birth, as far as mental reconstruction would allow, was during an unnamed second before eleven fifty-nine p.m. and right after twelve a.m.

So that was our ‘When’.

The ‘Why’ for that day was quite obvious- our apparent magnetism. That ‘It’ that drew us, without a choice, together. That thing that you’ve so eloquently compressed as synchronicity.

Our ‘How’ however, requires a more imaginative answer, and I’ll try to articulate it with the use of my entire unimpressive vocabulary arsenal. In short, I’ll enlighten you as vaguely as possible.

Here goes nothing.

Our ‘how’ didn’t come about in one single instant. Instead it was a series of factors and events that finally culminated into a single silent touch- like a loud punch line. Hilariously surprising but, at the same time, a consequence that was both natural and simple. The kind of simplicity that you’d find while playing dice or a slot machine- you’ll eventually, if chance tolerates it, get three cherries.

After our fleeting twelve-hour labor I woke up. And my alarm clock was wailing like a fuming spouse. And after that, came a rush of sirens made from past infidelities.

I was terrified.

Then you called.

And we talked, about nothings and somethings.

And we met and talked, silently of course.

And then apparently I was no longer terrified.

And we replaced everything with loud, equipoise, quiet conversations about excess baggage, excess ex’s, Cynthia Alexander and dissected day matter.

‘So, what do I do now?’ I ask.

Fate, as you’ve said, must’ve had a hand in this. What else could it be? We got incarcerated and still escaped liability.

What else can I do, God put you in my way.

Nothing, of course.

Maybe have a bottle or two with you and our gorgeous banters and linger for some more fortuitous events.

a dialogue for selene

I lit my cigarette. My third one, while I was staring at you, on a rooftop, somewhere.
I took a long drag. My mind pregnant with thoughts of you.
You, as always, are breathtaking tonight. Your faint glow bathing my silhouette.
You sit beside me, again, uninvited, arrogantly. Because you know I can’t resist having you so close.
‘So, what’s the catch this time?’ I said ‘ Why are you here?’
‘No catch’ you strained, ‘just wanted to see an old friend.’
Your distance presents an all too familiar drop.
‘Why? Why did you do it?’ My voice betraying my fears, avoiding your blinding gaze.
‘Do what?’ You look at me without the slightest trace of concern.
‘That last trick you pulled on me?’
Caressingly you bend your head closer to mine and whisper, ‘ I wanted you to learn something.’
I think to myself how can I possibly choose to fall in your dark, infinite abyss again. To wade in your sweet water of scents, delicately tormenting me.
Consumed by you again. Savoring that tart cup of attraction. I await your deluge.
‘Do you remember the first time you came here?’ I ask.
You glance at me, invitingly, and our eyes meet.
I’m blinded.
You were dressed with fire and you came with poise. And I took the bait, of course- hook, line and sinker. You caught me at the chin with a right hook. I didn’t see it coming. And you smiled, naturally, and your beauty was endearing, while my air ran out.
You pause, for effect maybe, I don’t know.
‘Yes I remember.’ You said, and a grin slips on your face.
Then there was the time when you came as a passing flood. I held out my hand long enough to feel your splendor, and then, as quickly as you arrived, you gracefully left.
I swear I heard you laughing as I watched you leave.
Of course I longed for you. Even as I deny you I longed for you.
How could I resist. You offered me a taste of delusion.
Isn’t it enough that you have been the author of my nights?
That you have to be here, again?
So near.
Now. At a time like this.
When I have been thirsting to feel you, again.
‘You have to trust me.’ You whisper.
‘But how?' After your last outline has left me with trepidation’
See what you have done- an evil temptress, an ephemeral bliss, an unfeeling pebble.
‘No. I can’t.’
‘But I probably will, eventually. You already knew that, naturally.’
A smile escapes from you, ‘naturally.’
How long could I hold my ground with you here? How long could I hold you at bay?
Not long enough I suppose.
‘You have to trust me.’ You whisper.
As you stand to leave I ask, ‘when will you return?’ But it’s too late.
You’ve already left.
Leaving only your crescent form.
A descent is close at hand.
I’m left here, again, to stare at you.
Alone with nothing left to smoke.

post mortem

It was raining when I met her.
I was in U.S.T. that day doing some business I could no longer remember. I was supposed to go straight home but it started to drizzle and I didn’t even bring a jacket. So I decided to wait it out at a nearby café. I saw a friend of mine and she introduced me to her. We ended up staying there till it was about to close. The rain was relentless.
Some months later, our friend decided to set us up for a date. We ate at Gerry’s in Makati. It was raining.
Even though we were already inside we kept getting damped. The wind was strong. There was unexpected storm that day. Nevertheless, we still pushed through.
I arrived at home at around six in the morning. Some roads were flooded and I had to wait for the water to go down.
Looking back, it would seem, the day I first met her pretty much told our story. Full of weathered but merciless storms. Each one leaving a stain that scarred us. After awhile we couldn’t tell who we were anymore. I never realized it until now. Maybe it was a warning? Perhaps it was.
It was as if the sky was beseeching us not to go because it knew of the tragedy that was awaiting us.
Nevertheless, we still pushed through.
If that day was indeed a sign, it was a damn obvious one. I guess I just refused to see it.
The day we ended us the weatherman said a slight downpour was probable. I brought my jacket. I arrived at Vito Cruz late in the afternoon. For the next hour or so I waited for her and I still had no clue what to do. I was drained. And I felt like I was about to fall apart. I felt because I couldn’t think. I remember feeling like I was about to brace a tempest the moment she called and said she was already near.
When she arrived she seemed pleased to see me. I tried to bury my unease but she kept asking what was bothering me. I said it was nothing. I still didn’t know what to do. She insisted. I said no. She got mad. And I finally told her.
We ended not with a clash but with a whisper.
Then she left.
The month was September, in the middle of storm season.
I expected it to rain that day. Rain didn’t come, just a hush. I would have welcomed rain.
The sky was clear when she left.

tonight i can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.

'The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her.

To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is shattered and she is not with me.This is all

In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

by Pablo Neruda