Your body’s borders,
These walls crumbled,
All this unclaimed land,
Ready for the taking,
Conquer these cliffs
Sail my seas,
This nation of mine,
Brought to it’s knees

Fireplace altar.
Cathedral dome horizons.
Icon constellations.  

Snowfall prayers, solitaire twilight
Forest tree stump confessions.
Every shadow a priest.

Every infant an angel.
Willow wind psalmsong;  
Praising the Everything.

No heaten forcefully converted.
No sinner's soul purgatory held.
Heaven is when

I close my eyes. Heaven too,
When they're open. Preaching to the
Choir of me.

Church of One.
Hell on Earth. Worldly Paradise.
Yin to the Yang.

I feel the pain within it all.
The pleasure as well. Poor
Beautiful, ugly world.

Single disciple walking. I'll focus
On my humble
Feet.

To be
a  husband, or a wife,
a friend
a sister, a brother
a mother, a father
an aunt, an uncle
a grandmother, or a grandfather,
one has to be a stronghold...an indestructible wall
amidst storms and droughts, never to fall
be thought of as Fire and Ice:

be the Fire, the steady flow of heat on icy, or wintry nights
the wood crackling, to fuel the flames dying...
a burning spur for the mind, when nothing comes out of the well
fire to boost the wilting spirit..bringing in newborn courage...
the warmth from hands that would hold... heal and  save
to fight for those near  you...even the ones farthest from you

be the Ice that never melts, right in the middle of the fire
to gently freeze anger...hostility...madness
neutralize the fiery air, to balance the atmosphere
to be a cooler head, among violent minds
make glaring eyes and deaf ears, receptive to reason
from red-orange...be an icy blue...

"Are you a shrink?"
i was asked once...
the thought lingered for a while...

Why, maybe...yes!
i've got no license, though
all i have are experiences,
a drop of wisdom...here and there
from times, when i failed
to notice what i was wearing
even the weather prevailing
because i was swimming
floating,
coping
with troubled, murky waters...

As heads of our families
Fire and Ice, we have to be...





Sally

Copyright September 6, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Your fingers have dipped in starlight, and
My eyes glow like the moon
And what you've painted on me, your canvas,
Has made my every nerve end twitch
Trembling with anxious, drunk-love excitement.
Sandman's heavy seeds have been sown,
And weigh down eyelids with their tempting fruit.
My fingers are dimmer
And I softly worry your shirt between them
Staring at a space behind my eyes

Despite the surf conditions
I am going in, I am having the
last splash of the summer,
That’s filled with swimming,
the fragrance of the sunscreen,
and the laughter of the playing children
Despite the rolling of the thunder vikings

The dance of those umbrellas,
to the musical sound of the wind
I am going in,

The sea and salty breeze,
Would no longer moisturize my face,
The sand would no longer, tickle my toes
and soon the frigid winter chill will swallow us whole
Leaving the sandy beaches, completely deserted
With the remains of dead Sanderlings birds on the shore
and no more three-toed imprints left behind for us to enjoy.

so, I am going in the water

what I needed for seven years
after I broke the mirror was
not electricity, not a word from
my kinfolks, not water or
a dry place to sleep.
Food and cigarettes were
needed but gave way if
they got in the way
of me getting high.
All I needed then was another
imagining I was getting high.
As I peeped through foil curtains
and waited impatiently when
the buzz wore off for the next hit to knock
on my door. I am surprised
now by how I ever made it here,
looking back at how I was
a total mess. How a few good people
saw me as potentially good.
I don't know how they and me made it
through.