Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Silent_Thurible
20/M I served with reverence, but walked away hurt.
Kung sakaling ako’y mawala na lang bigla, Huwag kang mabibigla, huwag kang luluha, Huwag kang mag-aalala sa aking alaala, Ito na lamang ang sagot sa bawat pagdurusa. Sinubukan ko naman, hindi lang minsan, Ilang beses lumaban kahit hirap ang daan, Ilang pagkakataon akong bumangon at nasaktan, Hanggang ang puso ko’y napagod at tuluyang nahinto ang laban. Kung sakaling ako’y maglaho sa iyong paningin, Isipin **** panaginip lang ang lahat ng damdamin, Parang kwentong binasa mo sa dilim, Na sa huli’y natapos din. Huwag **** hanapin ang bakas ng kahapon, Huwag **** balikan ang bawat tanong, Sabihin **** ako’y isang anino lamang, Dumaan saglit at saka naglaho sa hangin ng panahon. Maging matatag ka, huwag **** akuin ang bigat, Hindi mo kasalanan ang lahat ng sakit, Kung ako man ay tuluyang pumikit, Tandaan **** hindi ikaw ang dahilan ng aking pagbitaw sa pait. Isa lamang akong kwento na iyong narinig, Hindi totoo, sa isip mo lang sumilip, Isang imahinasyon na minsang umibig, At sa huli’y sa hangin din kumupas at napalipad sa himpapawid. Ngunit kung sakaling maalala mo pa rin ako, Sa pagitan ng gabi at ng tahimik na mundo, Ngumiti ka na lang at sabihin sa sarili mo “May isang kwento noon… pero tapos na ito.”
0
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 10:33 AM UTC
Alaala ng Kahapon
May damdamin sa puso ko na hindi ko masabi, Mga salitang sa labi ko’y ayaw lumabas lagi, Tahimik akong lumalaban sa bawat sandali, Ang isip ko’y pagod na at gusto kong magpahinga saglit. Sigaw ng isip ko: “Maglaho ka na lang bigla, Tapusin ang sakit, ang lungkot na dala,” Ngunit sagot ng puso ko’y may kaba “Paano na siya kung ikaw ay mawala?” Sa gitna ng dilim ako’y nalilito, Kung susundin ko ba ang isip na sugatan at hilo, O pakikinggan ang pusong ayaw sumuko, Dahil may isang taong sa akin ay umaasa pa rin nang totoo. Pagod na akong itago ang aking hinagpis, Ngunit tuwing siya’y ngumiti, sakit ko’y napapalis, Kahit mabigat ang mundong aking pasan at tiniis, Isang yakap niya lang, parang kaya ko pang magtiis. Kaya kahit minsan nais kong maglaho, At takasan ang pusong laging talo, Iniisip ko siya at ako’y napapahinto Dahil paano nga naman siya kung ako’y tuluyang maglaho? Sa ngayon man ay hindi ko pa maihayag, Ang damdaming sa dibdib ko’y nakalagak, Mananatili ako, kahit mahirap at masalimuot ang landas, Dahil may isang “siya” na dahilan kung bakit ako’y kumakapit pa rin sa bukas.
0
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 11:47 PM UTC
Kung Akoy Maglaho
May sigaw ang puso ko na walang marinig, Mga salitang gustong kumawala pero laging tikom ang bibig, Mga tanong sa isip ko na hindi ko masambit, At sa bawat gabi, pakiramdam ko’y ako lang mag-isa sa dilim. May bigat sa dibdib na hindi ko maibaba, Parang pasan ko ang mundo kahit wala namang nakikita, Gusto kong umiyak pero tila walang luha, Sa bawat paghinga ko, pagod lang ang dala. Bakit ganito kung wala namang malinaw na sagot? Bakit ang puso ko’y puno ng galit at takot? Gusto kong kumawala sa hawak ng lungkot, Pero may humihila sa akin pababa ito ang damdaming puno ng poot. Gusto kong tumayo at muling lumaban, Gusto kong hanapin ang liwanag sa daan, Pero sa tuwing susubok akong kumawala sa kadiliman, May aninong hahawak at ako’y ibabagsak muli sa kawalan. Sana balang araw ako’y makalaya, Sa mga tanong, sa galit, sa bigat na dala, Sana ang pusong ito’y muling sumaya, At hindi na muling hilahin paibaba.
0
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 10:46 AM UTC
Isang Pusong Tahimik
I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried burdens—quiet, unseen. While others walked down marble aisles, I walked through fire, clothed in routine. I wore no robe of woven white, No candle's glow to guide my feet, Yet still I stood beneath the light, And bore the ache of each heartbeat. They saw the servers—neat in line, With steady steps and lifted grace, But who could see the heavy spine? That bowed beneath a silent place? I didn’t lift that wooden sign, Emblem of salvation’s cost— But oh, I’ve held a thousand cries, And mourned the things that I have lost. I watched the pews with hollow eyes, As hymns rose like drifting prayer, And wondered if my quiet sighs. We have never heard or met with care. I didn’t carry the cross of gold, But I bore words unkind, untrue— The ones that pierced, the ones that rolled Like thunder breaking something new. I bore the doubt, the questioning stares, The judgments whispered after Mass, The moments no one truly dares To ask, "Are you okay, alas?" They carried candles, and I had pain. They lifted praise, and I bit my tongue. While incense rose like gentle rain, My grief within me always clung. I bore the weight of being there, While feeling lost, misunderstood— Still showing up, offering care, Still doing more than I thought I could. I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried silence, carried shame. Carried hopes now cracked and glossed, And bore the absence of a name. And yet—I stayed. Through all the cost. Through unseen tears and faith grown thin. I bore the burden, never tossed, And found a small light somewhere within. So let them hold the cross with pride, While choirs sing and bells arise. I walk the aisles with none beside— Still serving through these unseen cries. For though I may not bear the wood, Or walk in robes of sacred thread, I carry love the way I should, And lift the souls the world has shed. I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried burdens, day and night— And in that pain, I found the gloss. Of grace, of grit, of hidden light. "I didn't carry the processional cross, but I carried burdens."
0
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 9:27 AM UTC
"Cross Bearer Inside"
I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried burdens—quiet, unseen. While others walked down marble aisles, I walked through fire, clothed in routine. I wore no robe of woven white, No candle's glow to guide my feet, Yet still I stood beneath the light, And bore the ache of each heartbeat. They saw the servers—neat in line, With steady steps and lifted grace, But who could see the heavy spine? That bowed beneath a silent place? I didn’t lift that wooden sign, Emblem of salvation’s cost— But oh, I’ve held a thousand cries, And mourned the things that I have lost. I watched the pews with hollow eyes, As hymns rose like drifting prayer, And wondered if my quiet sighs. We have never heard or met with care. I didn’t carry the cross of gold, But I bore words unkind, untrue— The ones that pierced, the ones that rolled Like thunder breaking something new. I bore the doubt, the questioning stares, The judgments whispered after Mass, The moments no one truly dares To ask, "Are you okay, alas?" They carried candles, and I had pain. They lifted praise, and I bit my tongue. While incense rose like gentle rain, My grief within me always clung. I bore the weight of being there, While feeling lost, misunderstood— Still showing up, offering care, Still doing more than I thought I could. I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried silence, carried shame. Carried hopes now cracked and glossed, And bore the absence of a name. And yet—I stayed. Through all the cost. Through unseen tears and faith grown thin. I bore the burden, never tossed, And found a small light somewhere within. So let them hold the cross with pride, While choirs sing and bells arise. I walk the aisles with none beside— Still serving through these unseen cries. For though I may not bear the wood, Or walk in robes of sacred thread, I carry love the way I should, And lift the souls the world has shed. I didn’t carry the processional cross, But I carried burdens, day and night— And in that pain, I found the gloss. Of grace, of grit, of hidden light. "I didn't carry the processional cross, but I carried burdens."
Continue reading...
57