Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Bryan Amerila Jul 2018
See how the snake coils
Crushing tender

The bones
Of your own skin.

~after watching a news feature about the identical twins, named Prince Gerald and Prince Carl, diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, an inherited condition causing increased fragility of bone.
Bryan Amerila Jul 2018
Blue blood names
I give you, as though

A medication, a palliative
To your sufferings; or

Perhaps, to gloss over:
The Imperfect.

Every *****, foreign.
A genesis, always

Awaiting that another *****.
Never ending.

Every day, twice-told:
Pain is pain, never

An ordinary thing
To fragile bodies

Not accustomed to it.
Bryan Amerila Jul 2018
Fully aware or not, we survive
This life thriving on clues.
How a baby beaming means
An angel is coaxing him to smile,
The elders would say. Snap,
And there it is, his only photograph
As a baby, hanging on his mother’s
Bedside green wall. Asked or not,
We tend to offer evidence that we grow up;
That indeed, we started off as tiny things,
Later into trees with unruly branches.
We try to take a second look at the faces
We see. Perchance, to remind us: Where
Have we met the unfamiliar ones? Those
Not perfectly aligned; the photograph’s
Uncomfortably pegged to a rusty nail.
Meanwhile, our eyes are gravitated
To the smudges forming around
The edges of that photograph,
Made perhaps by the mixing
Of time & water, forming maps
Of places and distances, where
The this once-child would go.
Bryan Amerila Apr 2017
(for her; she who suffers silently)

It’s not just a river
But a river bending through
Pain and a road forking.

It’s not a stem of tender
But a branch of summer leaves
Branching out to the sun
Wilt further dry and dry
She did.

It’s the bone-dry hands
A cup to plead --
A cup to contain sky’s tears:
April’s first refuse.

It’s the barren soil she
Whose face is drought
Awaiting river’s touch:
A profuse of fresh blood.

Bryan Amerila Apr 2017
Nothing’s left.
No more days spared
To find you.

I saw you talking to someone.
Then another came
Then another one.
One by one,
You received them all.
I told you
They will return,
One by one.

I told you.

That same story
That same book
Telling about a father
With open arms
Receiving
His returning son.

I am your new life, you say.
Every time one from your past returns
A part of me will disappear
Now, an eye
Then, an ear
Later, an arm
Then, a leg.
No violent tearing off of my body
But a voiceless disappearance of each part.
See how a puddle of water appears after the rain
Then disappears without a trace.
How an agreement though unwritten
Disappears.

That feeling.

I call your name…
You can hear me:
A whisper
Of
The
w
i
n
d
.
Bryan Amerila Apr 2017
A name and a name will soon be forgotten.
Change a name change a name, Baden-Baden
But what's behind remains forever begotten.
Bryan Amerila Sep 2016
When the arrow strikes,
The heart breathes its last:

They will be one.

My legs are burning;
In cupped hands, the heart.

I am burning –  the holder
Of the arrow

And I, will be one.
Next page