Visitors had flown back home...
The much-longed for respite
Finally, was at hand.
It felt good...to be on your own...
Leaning on the bed, alone, though
Still nursing a cold from two weeks past.
To catch up with sleep
Was all that mattered.
Quietude was a blessing.
There was no noise at all
At 5:00 in the morning.
What? 5:00 AM?
No rushing footsteps? No showering?
No flushing of the toilet?
On a school day?
This can't be!
Rising from the bed was a struggle,
Everything seemed light...floating,
Panic lurked in all corners of my room,
Loomed, it did, and spread all around,
In the midst of a widening cloak of fear.
The vacuum...in the right ear...
Cleared those fuzzy thoughts.
My right ear could no longer hear.
Whether lying cringed or curled,
Prostrate, or supine,
Predominated in the days that followed.
Diagnoses and prognoses, all were bleak.
The cruel, deadly virus did it all...
The loss superceded, and
Displaced every strand of confidence...
A downward pull was imminent.
No phone calls were accepted.
Unexpectedly, true colors surfaced,
Real friends came forward...
Family, other voices kept whispering:
"Shibashi waits, tai chi helps,
Both can alleviate, heal the heart,
Heal the mind, to be able
To accept the unacceptable."
Fourteen days seemed a year already,
Moments spent in soul-searching...
With prayers and courage, gathered within,
I dared cross that busy street,
Though shaking, quivering from fear
And from the cold winds of February...
Almost got hit by a car,
Cursed by its driver,
But reached the church grounds in one piece.
Practice started at 7:00 AM, sharp.
Movements were calming,
Concentration was perfect!
It was a sunny day...
Wind blew softly,
Carrying small things, floating, flying...
Tiny strips that went with the wind...
What I thought were garbage...
Strips of thrash paper... from a shredder, maybe...
Thrown from a house I passed by...
Blown even further, higher up...
I walked back home,
With strips of paper on my head.
Two weeks were too short, I was still confused,
Unaccepting, mad, sad, felt cheated,
Still in denial, of what had occured...
Standing in front of a vanity mirror,
Wondering what God's message was this time.
Strangely, I thought of those strips of thrash paper...
Confetti from Heaven???
My situation wasn't a festive event!
Could I have overlooked something here?
Was God trying to call my attention?
I wasn't sure...all I knew was,
I was depressed...
I lost equanimity, I lost my serenity...
I was distraught, I was everything but happy.
But, those strips of paper...
Falling on my head...
Made me look up to the sky that morning....
There were no tears before, and even today...
I am a bit afraid, but
There is a calmer me...
There is solace in the fact that,
God gave me two ears...
I could still hear with the other...
I live a quite active life 'til now...
I move briskly...
I sit where the speaker's voice is most clear
To my left ear.
When something is difficult to hear, or understand,
I get so frustrated..
Sometimes, I forget about it,
It has its good effects.
It would soon be seven years after...
I have learned to
adjust to my limitations,
And still wanting to know how to overcome
Or resolve these limitations...
One day, I might just...
One day, I might just
Accept what should be accepted...
There'd be much gratitude for my sole request:
To be understood...
And not pitied...
Early morning ,December 11, 2013
(From journals of 2007-2008)
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
They are bare,
they bear branches too,
the branches are bare,
that makes them naked,
not quite naked though,
there is a skiff of white in
plain sight on the trunk,
and if each branch was an
arm there is a layer of snow
to stay the harm of a cold wind,
there is also a lining of snow,
in every crotch, don't you know?
where one or more
branches grow from the trunk, the crotch
so maybe they are not so naked
just more beauty, in the mystery
that was seen by these eyes.
your ever insistant
pulses against mine
We naturally intertwine
Thats what fills your eyes
Shards of it sprinkled in your iris
I cannot break gaze
your stumble pricks my hot skin
hips sway, breaths catch, and passion comes into play
is never mentioned; we need not say
Life is a concept that we too often take for granted
drowning in the thought that death would be fitting
but it's not so much that we want to die
rather that we don't want to live
angels don't deserve to die
or to feel this pain
and I truly think that you're an angel
but you let yourself think
that you were quite the opposite
angels can't die
you will forever be alive
There once was a woman so gorgeous so frail,
Who never removed her wedding day veil.
She sat in her home and smiled and wept,
And clung to her breast a photo she kept.
This photo was taken of her most betrothed,
A man who she loved, and man who she loathed.
A man with a beautiful porcelain smile,
A man who left her alone at the aisle.
So long story short she chopped him in slices,
And used him quite literally to cure her own vices.
A piece for brunch, lunch, and more,
A piece for the Wilsons who moved in next door.
Sorry to say there's no message to teach,
No metaphor here or limerick to preach.
This is a story that cures no desires,
A story with few (if any) admirers.
i want to escape my own head
and run as far as i can,
with the intent of reaching a destination
neither past nor future
and not quite present.
somewhere that is in-between,
in a time that is uncharted, unpredictable;
not labeled by human standards of time.
i want to discover.
i want to rid myself of every emotion
that i have ever experienced
every stupid, limiting category,
and just feel with reckless abandon.
i want to feel colors;
vibrant, daffodil yellows
and muted, aqua blues;
foreboding, stormy grays,
light, springtime greens.
i want every sense to be satisfied.
i want to feel alive.
Beethoven was in my mind
As I scrubbed some lipstick off my mirror
From a heart I drew a few years back.
The coldness of the polished tiles under my feet
For an 80 degree January
And I'm not quite sure what the symphony was
Or that it was even a symphony
Or Beethoven, for that matter.
All the same, I continued to work at the heart;
Rather, I rubbed the pigments all over my mirror,
And found myself within a room of misty pink.
All arranged in rose on my mirror.
Something I never understand,
(but ponder quite a lot)
is how boys get away with things
that girls simply cannot.
A man can boast about his feats,
and all pronounce him clever,
but a woman is conceited
if she speaks of her endeavor.
And tell me, why is 'bachelor'
a more attractive word
than the female term of 'spinster'
and the concept that's inferred?
It's this gender inequality
that renders women shamed
by the sexual exploitation
for which they're always blamed.
Whilst men are given status for
the women they've undressed,
so after this, please tell me now;
which gender has it best?
how you walked by me,
gave me that smile,
held my hand.
You made me choke on my words,
you made me forget how to breath.
I couldn't swallow.
And when you kissed me,
I swear I floated in midair.
And that night you cuddled into the curves of my back,
Nothing quite makes sense when you're by my side,
you make me come alive.
Day by day you remind me how to
And for that,
you are mine.
I have fear
Inside of me
Hanging off a jagged cliff, I'm dangling, struggling to hold on
Looking at your face
I'm afraid it's the monster I'll become
A torturous thought it is , that just like you I might succumb
To how it feels to have a bit of fun
Never quite knowing when to stop
I have fear
One day I'll press a cool bottle to my lips
the bittersweet taste consuming me, making it impossible to quit
Downgrading my life, ignoring my kids
To find a permanent high that doesn't exist
Forgetting that I swore I was gonna be someone
like everyone else in our family always does
I have fear
That I'll look into so-called loved ones faces
Ones I've hurt without consideration
And not recognize their expressions
Emotionally vacant , resigned to the fact that I'm just not changing
Yet they've done everything but give up
I have fear thats all consuming
That my fate is not of my choosing
Fear that just one drink will lead to two
And that two will lead to eight
Taking away the chance that I'll appreciate
Something that doesn't involve two glasses going "clink"
or the opening of a foul metallic can
I have fear
That I'll become just like you
A horror I'll do anything to prevent from coming true
Because I've seen first hand what liquor can do
I've seen how it eats brain cells for lunch
Destroying the ability to listen, increasing the urge to judge
I have fear
That I'll be everything I despise
Giving in to the monster I see in your eyes