The last time I saw you
We were trying to blend orange into green
In a huge painting for a fund raising auction.
Surprisingly, I see you again in yet another colorful adventure,
In a dark room with bright blinking lights where
We gave 80's dance moves to pop rock songs.

Then we plunged into the night and let
Our laughter and high pitched voices pierce the chilly air.
We balanced our books as we hurriedly jaywalked
Through the 10 pm traffic jam.

Though the ads in the mall were right at our faces,
You pulled me to a big blue aquarium
To marvel at the goldfish and guppies
Staring at our shiny eyes the same way.
We tried to understand the math
On how our corals cost 3 times more than the States
Even if we have 20 times more species than them.
We couldn't, but we swore to each other we'd stop it.

And as we shared a glass
Of too much ice and no more tea
We fought back passion filled tears
When we told each other story after story
Of our government's inadequacies.
We argued, but finally agreed that
It's not over population, it's urban planning;
It's not poverty, it's inequality;
They're not imbeciles, just ignorant;
And our nation maybe unfortunate,
But our trust is not in fortune, but in grace.

Then as we bid each other goodbye,
Unsure of when will we even meet again,
I prayed to God that
If our school chaplain becomes the president
I'd like him to appoint you and me as the
environment and finance secretaries.
I thanked Him too because
Now for the first time in my life,
I'm not ashamed, I'm not embarrassed but
I'm happy
To be a geek
Because you are with me.

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Patience
is limitless when I speak with you
no matter how long of a pause we take between words
whether hours, weeks, or months.
I've trained myself
far too well
in the months we've known each other
(48)
to never expect anything more
than your presence.
I view it as a gift,
that each one worded reply, every good morning and goodbye,
a simple sentence that you give me
is doing me a favor.
(I don't even get that anymore!)

Fear
is prominent when you speak to me.
You,
with a voice sweet enough to lure a confused traveler close,
but firm enough to tame the savage beast
have lassoed my emotions
and pulled them into a choke hold;
restricting airways
and turning them a sickly shade of blue.
I am scared,
scared to tell you anything.
I over-think every word I'm about to say,
and dissect each one you've already spoken
without the slightest hint of hesitation.
(God, am I envious!)

Guilt
is ever-present
when I think about myself
instead of you
and contemplate leaving you
only in my memories,
when you never had to think twice about leaving me.
(Why did you go again?)

I am oatmeal with
two tablespoons of sugar topped with
a strawberry freshly sliced, thin enough to
slip between my lips and slide
down my throat
without me having to chew
I am trying my best not to spit out seeds.

I am a pair of faded shorts
a charcoal cotton sweater
an ugly red scarf and a pair of
frayed black Toms, but
sometimes I am a vintage dress
or camouflage pants, and
some days I am a string of pearls
I am still trying to find the perfect shoes.

I am a Philippine history book
repeating the same mistakes
refusing to learn from those who
now kiss cool marble
but there are days when I take
three steps forward where
I see they took one step back.
I am trying to scrape off towers to read the letters
our grandfathers wrote in the dirt.

I am a missing pencil
that drew lines and traced figures
under the bed and wrote
stories of empty seats being filled
and now that the fountain pens have dried up
I've been found.
I am scared, but I am giving until my lead runs out.

I am a fervent prayer
longing for redemption to win
and for the fighting to end
please, I just want to see
hearts beating to the rhythm of
the stars being breathed into place
I am hope,
or I am trying to be, I am
trying to be a lot of other things still
testing, still throwing, still keeping.

But most of all, I am still
the choices I make and
maybe tomorrow I'll have
some rice and tapa
and a lightly salted sunny side up
instead of oatmeal and I promise,
I won't be spitting out any seeds.

No, I am not a Christian, rather
I am a child adopted and chosen
I am a friend, He is my buddy
I am a follower, humbly obeying the Leader
I am a disciple, carrying my cross daily
I am an heir of the heavenly kingdom
I am a steward of the gifts that he gave me
I am a servant, loyal and faithful
I am a princess, set apart and of royalty
I am a citizen in but not of this world
I am an ally, no longer an enemy
I am a soldier constantly in battle
I am a conqueror, for He has won the victory
I am a slave, not to sin but to righteousness
I am an ambassador, representing peace
I am a new creation, gone is the old
I am a handiwork, a grand masterpiece
I am a branch yielding much fruit
I am a temple, the Spirit lives in me
I am a light and salt to all the nations
I am His possession, bought with a price too heavy