Have you ever written about love
until your eyelids were heavy
and tears drip dropped
from your eyes,
when clearly you knew
you had awakened the beast
that lies inside you,
deep and wide.

This is when I hear the world begin
to count the ways
it can swing
against my pride.  
When I want to hear you say
I am beautiful
wipe away
the tears I cry.

I could proclaim that roses
slide over all of my shadows
and hold me close
until I no longer want
to be anywhere else.  
Say farewell
to these lines I write,
put them on a shelf.

Yet still, I write of the love I know,
day by day, on paper
until the ink of my soul
becomes a gentle scent
which fades into each page.
Again I wake the beast
inside of my heart's cage.

I fear the way you love me:
That tender-touching kiss
Seducing me to nightly
Sink deep in your abyss.

Those smooth caresses take me
To places that I dread,
Your cunning fingers rouse me
To plan such lies ahead.

But while we writhe and tumble
In lust's hypnotic hold,
I fear the final stumble
That will see the truth unfold.

Your body walks on sand
But where is your mind?
Your smile in another land
What did you hope to find?

The ocean pulling you in
Cold swells tickle your feet
You think of where you've been
Who were you hoping to meet?

Your eyes glistening like pearls
The moon, startled by your beauty
Forgets to make its tidal swirls
Is someone waiting in the city?

Wading into the darkness
Realizing your place
Reaching for an unseen answer
What will it replace?

Is paradise real?
Yes, if only for a moment
From unhappiness it must steal
Are you someone’s ornament?

Soon you will leave
Flying on sweet wistfulness
There is no need to grieve
Beyond the clouds, togetherness

I
   always
                hope
                           I
                               have
                                         some
                                                   inkling    
                                                                 of
                                                                      ***
                                                                             appeal.

Packed like sardines
inside a jeepney—
Too full,
with a jeepney strike going on.

Rushing,
mother and child ride along.

Greasy, *****, malnourished…
The woman holds a can—
a makeshift drum.
Little boy hands out envelopes,
he looks like he's 3 years old,
he's most likely 6.

Woman beats her drum,
nobody listens
chatter drowning out the rhythm…
Invisible ears to go with
invisible envelopes

His head touches my legs,
dissipating heat—
an indicator of how long
he's been under the sun and smog
The thought chills me…

He stares at my sister's shopping bags
with searing eyes…
Windows that I can’t bear to look into,
afraid to see my reflection of clouded guilt and frustration

I shake my head, no food to share
but my hands reach out to his,
to give him some money.
My sister remembers a bottle of iced tea,
and hands it to him.

He has a hard time opening it,
and asks for help from the school girls…
Invisible again.

I reach out and get the bottle from him
Temporary refreshment
for a body that is parched,
for a soul who is thirsty for so much more.

I cannot help but gulp in guilty air.

He sits on the aisle,
savoring the tea
as his mother thumps on the can.

The little boy retrieves envelopes, all empty—
as hollow as the sound of the beating drum.

What do you do,
what can you do?

The jeepney stops.
They alight from it...
The mother looks back
and says, "Salamat."
It goes straight to my heart.

Her eyes move me most—
one eye is cloudy, grayed out,
perhaps a manifestation
of the storms in her life?

That single word seared through me,
and I felt how much she meant it…

Her thank you
made me want to give so much more,
to call out to her and give whatever I had at the moment
but they are gone...
Lost in a crowd of faceless people,
and I myself want to get lost,
hide my face in shame…

What can you do?