I met a man yesterday.
He said something about eagles in Thailand.
and how your first love has a 90% chance of betraying you.

"tell me something I don't know"
"you're weird."
"tell me something I don't know"
"what happened to your eyes?"
"what happened to my eyes?"
"they don't have depth"

"tell me something I don't know"

he told me again that there's a 90% chance your first love will betray you.
I looked at this bright-eyed man and thought he doesn't know anything about me.
And I was struck by the colors of his eyes.
It's amber.
four or maybe six different shades of amber.

It's the color of autumn in New England,
It's the color of fire that's not too hot nor too bland.
It's the color of sunset in the Grand Canyon.
It's the color of the words, "Welcome home."

"There's a 90% chance that your first love will betray you."

My eyes are burning.

"But there's a 100% chance that it will get better."

My hands are shaking.

"All you have to do is let him go."

seven years.
*******.

"Put an end to everything that hurts."

After long dark,
you can find me in my mind;
taming serpents; kissing girls.
You may not understand
why I've been the way I am.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.

Sometimes I am imprisoned
within the waves of an ocean
that always misbehaves --
but it's not my fault; just the
way the god rolls: making halves
and making wholes.

After the short syrup of light,
you can find me hiding, true;
pulling off ticks; kissing boys.
You may not comprehend
the way I'm fumbled together.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.

Always I am imprisoned
within the crash of culture;
my thoughts treated like worms;
my illnesses considered contrived.
But it's not my fault; just the
way you guys roll: ignoring halves
for conventional wholes.

1090

I am afraid to own a Body—
I am afraid to own a Soul—
Profound—precarious Property—
Possession, not optional—

Double Estate—entailed at pleasure
Upon an unsuspecting Heir—
Duke in a moment of Deathlessness
And God, for a Frontier.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Coming home from the mass,
body stretches became endless
no hurried showers were done
some returned to bed, everything
was on a slow pace....but then,
kitchen aromas roused sluggish senses,
revealed garlic and onion sauteing,
beef stewing, stuffed fish grilling,
even the smell of parched soil, being
sprinkled with water...became fragrant...
all rushed to the table...for lunch...
..............................................

dessert,­ was a choice...nothing...or,
slices of pie..fresh strawberries dipped
in condensed milk...peanuts, sour
chips, or salty tortillas, with salsa,
all these, over loud talks...whispers,
wholesome family conversations,
where endings are ever unpredictable
...............................................

ea­ch Sunday carries a different mood
...with cups of tea, or coffee, when
discussions are serious, long, hushed...
most times, they're a tall glass of sundae,
with shaved ice, sago, sweetened yam,
or, beans, milk, and sugar........
decisions made, and agreed upon
are the multi colored toppings,
pretty much like syrup.....or ice cream...
...................................................

sev­en days.....with different names...
each family member brings in a new shade
we do our best, to start, and end each day
................with pleasant airs
.................especially on Sundays,
......when families gather together...
..................................................


­Sally


Copyright March 26, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

The birds have returned
And peace emerges
In the form of a dove.
Life on the rise again
Children living normal
Lives once more
Playing in fields
Like they did before.
The deadly dark cloud
Replaced by bright sunny skies
Erasing memories of the past
Painting the world with new colours
The rising tide of hope
Washes away the fear of war.

I wanted him.

I wanted him more than anything.

Every fiber of my body was attracted to this boy.

And I believed every lie he told me, about him wanting me.

Long story short.

He didn't want me at all.