I was allowed to visit back home
whenever he wanted me to
adoption’s only condition
agreed to by Mama Julia

when I was about seven years old
Father and my older sister Coring
arrived unannounced
traveling in a boat he made himself
bringing gifts of large dried fish
small salted fish
green edible seaweed called, “latu”
and ceramic pots made by Mother

Father had never been to Carigara
but found the house with no trouble
everyone knew the Tranis
they directed him to the big house
called, “Tiha”
three stories
a tiled terracotta roof
coconut trees
sweet, fragrant yellow bananas
Mama Julia was away in Manila
old folks hesitated in her absence
fearing Father might keep me
they asked that he leave my older sister
to ensure my return
Father agreed

a very old friend accompanied Father
to sell her handmade pottery
very friendly
with messy white hair
and only one front tooth
her name was Reyang
they spent the night at Tiha
planning to leave early with me
but Apoy Reyang got drunk
from the tuba* Father brought
she went out into the street
walking and talking to herself
my friends told me later they liked the old lady
speaking wildly like a witch
we feared stories of bad witches
who snatched little kids
but no one ever actually saw one
so they were glad to see
a real live old witch
who wasn’t scary at all
they thought she was my grandma
actually envying me
for the nice witch in my family

Father built a mast in the middle of his banca
outriggers on both sides
were made of bamboo poles
lashed together with rope
sailing back to Guintarcan
he brought food to snack on
when wind stirred
Father raised sail
to make the boat go faster
when it was calm
he wrapped the sail on the mast
and used the paddle
I liked it when Father asked me
to hold something for him
but he spoke in a Samar dialect
when he realized I couldn’t understand him
he rephrased it the Carigara way

a perfect day
sea was calm
sky cloudless
I reached down to feel the cool, clear water
rush against my open hand
when the boat was moving faster
increased pressure on my palm was pleasing
I was happy and excited for the chance
to visit with family
but this adventure’s biggest thrill was simply:
my Father came for me


*coconut wine

he adorns the dawn
and brightens the earth
basking us in ultraviolet
he warmly coaxes a reassurance
in the promise of a new day
he brings sunlight to the world
so eyes can see
and he never stops giving
at day’s end he colors the sunsets
relinquishing sky to moon

she casts dreams in shades of silver
her phases waxing and waning
in quarters of human understanding
freedom of the leash
gives her leeway to appear in daytime
or blackout in the night
but her path is mapped in almanacs
her cycle set in cement
even scripture says the earth will continue
as long as the moon shines

clouds can cover him
but the sky is ever present
beyond the gloom and teariness
he is a fixture of blue
and truest blue the day after the storm
cerulean by day
he holds the air we breath
the color of midnight keeps the stars
an infinity pool with no end
a depth unperceptible to naked eyes

she holds the sky’s horizon
along her ultramarine mesa
day and night
she crashes every beach party
with her rolling hula hands
thundering onto sand
her swells rising and rippling
with her music’s ebb and flow
no one has ever seen the ocean stop
even when she’s standing still

daily sun
nightly moon
endless, ever present sky
ocean’s perpetual motion
nature runs like clockwork
why are people so unreliable?

beach’s brightness and heat
soothe weary skin and bones
so good to feel warmth upon shoulders
and sand between toes
reminiscing in familiar scents
of cool salty breezes
and warm sun tan lotions
shaded eyes swimming in clean ocean’s blueness
witnessing waves’ wonder
as a wet world walks onto a dry one
so many people seeking refuge
in rest and recreation
so many voices volleying beach *****
and tossing frisbees
so many feet leaving 1,000,000 footprints
rendered shapeless in loose grains
casting shadows in cups of sand
as day wanes and crowds disperse
curiosity ponders this micro desert of mini dunes
who has walked here through the eons?
who walks here still?
the setting sun shimmers on the sea
sparkling upon 1,000,000 crests
surface tension of the ocean’s tableau
rippled by wind and gravity
driven by earth’s rotation
forming floating cups of golden iridescence
resembling footprints in the sand
moved by their beauty, curiosity ponders
did someone walk upon these waters?
does someone walk there still?

searching for meaning in muck’s mire
crawling on knees and elbows
in hills and valleys of gray matter
weeding through memories
turning them like mulch
refreshing the mind’s soil
nourishing a heart shrouded in fibrillation
a cool wind freezes time
and winds the clocks backward
he sees himself in past’s mirror
looking into his eyes
he finds a place of pensive calm
contemplating the stillness
he recalls uncomplicated beginnings
wafting in the smells of adolescence
waves crashing on the jetty
campfire on the beach
hot dogs cooked on wire hangers
barefoot midnight football on the sand with the girls
blowin’ a little **** in darkness’ solitude
an occasional airplane taking off overhead
drowning out discussion on a utopian society
endorphins heightening recollections
pre-adulthood times before mistakes and regrets
before the bad news grabbed the headlines
keeping discontentment’s seeds deep inside
sprouting an irregular heartbeat
he wonders how it could come to this
never had much growing up
doesn’t have much now
never thought much of himself
just living day to day
with garnishments on a part-time salary

(my great, great grandfather as told by my mamasita)

he came from Calbiga
with his Spanish nose
tropic’s warmth allowed him to wear
but a pair of shorts everyday
his shirtlessness revealed
smooth, supple, brown skin
thick shimmering white hair
the only clue to his age
without knife or razor
his fingers felt his face
and tweezered stubble
with a pair of empty clam shells
he slept on a pillow
of hard narrah wood
made smooth and shiny
by years of use
he built his nipa and bamboo house
by the shore
big, sturdy and strong
sheltered at cliff’s foot
it withstood every storm

high atop the cliff
a tree stood tall and huge
a prolific garden of crops and flowers
grew in the soft filtered light of its canopy
cane and banana relinquished skin
in strips scraped clean and sun dried
woven into harvest and fishing baskets
braided into fishing line
he cut down only what he needed
allowing the plants to thrive
long before sustainability was new

old folks said that tall and huge tree
was a faeries’ castle
tending pineapples growing beneath it
Apay Bectay heard a voice beckoning her
a sweet musical melody in the wind
“Bectay…Bectay…”
she peered upward to a vision so beguiling
a beautiful naked lady sitting high on a limb
her skin a pale, pale white
her face and smile radiant
she stroked her long golden hair
with a golden comb
as it flowed alive with the breeze
she appeared as a mermaid underwater
sitting in a sea of swaying green leaves
Apay Bectay ran home for fear of enchantment

one day, my ears followed a peaceful, playful tune
until I came upon Apoy Engo
by his front door post
improvising on a small yellow flute
he had carved by hand
a thin, foot long bamboo chute
harvested from a nearby grove

when the tide was high
you could always find him fishing
by the house, close to shore
rain or shine
as long as the sea was calm
sitting in his banca
slightly stooped
patiently awaiting a bite
for his viand
a woven sun shade hat
tied under his chin
a picture of serenity
accompanied by the soft lapping sea

wind was sweeping darkness
clouds cluttered the horizon
in all directions
encircling clear, midnight sky
foreshadowing the full moon
shiny, twinkly things beamed brightly
in pollution’s absence
mulberry, guava and palm
swayed in silhouette
dancing to wind chime songs
soft clacks, tinkles and bongs
fragrant breezes carried ocean
like a sweet smelling memory
gently stirring the stillness

Sunday was hot
bright lazy sunshine sizzled skin
cooled slightly by gentle breezes
animating soft shadows
warmly wafting ripe guava scents
skies of crisp crystal cerulean
a scattering of sweeping angel hair clouds
a half moon half smiling in the high afternoon
distant layered mountains display their looming majesty
long green grass awaits Wednesday's haircut
as Summer peeks through Spring
nothing left to want
but the sweet smell of salty seas
and you