Munting hiram na buhay,                             When will this rented
kelan pa yayaon?                                            lifetime pass?
Pina-walang kabuluhan                                Time has taken  
ang oras na lumipas.                                      the sense of things.
Panahon na sinaksi                                         I have witnessed
pawang di akin sarili.                                    what is not mine.

Kelan ang katapusan?                                    When will this end?
Sa oras ng pagtanggap                                   In accepting
ng tinig mo? Irog,                                            your voice? My dear,
ika'y aking kamatayan.                                   you are my death.

Ano ang pinangakong                                    Where is
payapa at galak,                                               peace and joy
kung puso'y sumisikap                                   if the heart still toils
sa inaasahang pangarap?                                towards it's endeavors?

Kelan mabubuksan                                          When will I unlock
ang pagkakataon ng pangakong                    the promise
ligaya mula sa kamay mo?                              from your hands?
Di pa sapat ang pagsunod?                             Is compliance not enough?

Asan na ang hinanap pangarap na ligaya,      Where is happiness
mula sa pawis, pagnanasa?                               sought with sweat and desire
Gawin ang lahat                                                  of risking all                
sa anumang konsekwnsya?                               no matter what?

Sino ako? Taong                                               Who am I? so presumptive
mapangahas sa sariling kalooban,                 of my own will,
ligaw sa ilang,                                                   lost in the wild,
lasing sa layaw,                                                  drunk for indulgence,
lulon sa kadiliman at kawalan.                        drowned into its depths.

ano ako sa Yo?                                                   what am i to You?
yapak.                                                      ­           footprints.
alabok.                                              ­                  dust.
pinag-duraang basura ng lansangan.            garbage spit in the street.

Ginawa mo aking kapalaran,                           You made me thus,
palayok at pinggan.                                           as a clay ***.
Sa yong kagustuhan                                          Transformed and used
tadhanang pupuntahan.                                    for what you forge.

Aking tanggap                                                    I accept
kawalan ng karapatan,                                      lost of rights,
pagsuko ng kalayaan,                                       surrendered freedom,
layag sa kagustuhan,                                         adrift from wants,

yaong kababaan.                                                and lowly.
Paglisan ng sarili, bihag                                    when i abandon myself, as Your
at lingkod mo,                                                      captive and servant
nawa'y malaya sa mundo.                                  may i be free of this world.

wala naman makapagsasabi, kung kelan matutupad ang tunay na pangarap
    nalalaman mo pa ba kung ano ang binubulong ng puso?
    hinde pa ba ito natatabunan
    ng alaala ng kahapong pinagmulan?

    nais kong umangat mula sa putik na aking minana:
    ambisyon ang umuudyok
    pagkatotoohanin ng kasiyahan, ang bawat layaw ng laman
    na tulak ng mundo
    pabilis nang pabilis ang ikot
    habulin man
    unahan man
    kelangan pagbayarin

    bawat hubog sa atin ng tinaguriang
    collective consciousness
    nang kung sino man matalinong tumawag dyan,
    dyan! mapangahas na pangngalang marangal!

    sino ba ako pag humiwalay ako sa collective consciousness na yan?
    anong napala ko dyan, itinulak ako
    (di kayat, nagpatuak ako?)
    patungo sa isang kanto nyan
    dahil kelangan kong sundin
    ang moralidad
    ang paniniwalang
    gawa-gawa rin lang
    ng aking kapwa

    hinde ko tinatakbuhan
    ang aking
    social responsibility
    na syang dinikta na lipunan
    na dapat akong kumayod at tuparin
    ang oblgasyon ko sa kanya

    no.

    ang tinutukoy ko
    ay ang binubulong
    ng bawat saloobin

    natabunan na ito
    ng sigaw ng damdamin

    sinong makakapagsabi
    kung kelan matutupad ang pangarap?

    ito ba'y aking hahabulin
    pipilitin
    paglalabanan
    sa hilaw na panahon?
    (tulad ng sigaw ng damdamin
    na tumilapon sa akin?)

    ang bulong ng saloobin
    hinuhukay ko pa
    ito'y nasa ilang
    lantang lanta na ako
    binging bingi
    ngunit naririnig ko pa
    sinasakop nya ako
    umaasang bubuhayin ko muli.

strawberry flavored pancakes and milk
and her under the beige umbrella on the patio licking the red top off the maple syrup bottle

dinner never tasted so good


- Martha Grace Hsieh and Daniel J. Flore III

I   "LIGAW"

"The vibrato of this gypsy dance
Wanes under the midnight sun"

It's blue and amber all at once. In those brief
moments, i imagine a future for us. 

A flutter of a smile passes. A deep sigh.

I hear a million tones of "maybe",
watch the moon fade.

The blur stays with me long after.
It covers up a hollow beating and
a thrill of the unsaid and unmet.

Sabungan                                              Cockfight

­Sa pula!                                                  For the red!
Sa puti!                                                   For the white!
Anopaman dumating                          However they come
piliin ang magiting                              choose the valiant
tumaya sa tindig                                   gamble on their carriage
pagpaboran                                           and consider
bawat katunggali.                                 each competitor.

Sumiping sa dilim                                Make love with the dark
at sumigaw                                            and cry
Kristo! Kristo!                                        Christ! Christ!

Panoorin ang laban                              Watch closely the battle
sarsuelang mapanganib                      this dangerous sarsuela
kawatang sumasanib                           a thief takes over
sa aking piling                                      inside.

Sa bawat kong hiyaw,                          Every shriek
ang kada tuka, laslas                            each peck, a slash
nagmula sa dahas                                of ruthlessness and

lumilipana ang daing                           cries all around
dumadaginding ang bagsik                echo ferociousness
bawat laban pilit.                                  of this stilted struggle

Kristo! Kristo!                                       Christ! Christ!
sigaw ng sabungero                             screamed the sabungero
at ako'y tumigil.                                   I stop.

Sa pagpanaw                                        When all is gone
manalo                                                   win
matalo                                                    los­e
walang pareho tumingin                    no one sees evenly
sa aking balahibong                            my feathers
pula at puti                                           of red and white

sa alabok                                               on the surface dust
kumalat                                                 they lay

lumipad                                                 they fly

lumahong taimtim.                             and vanish without a thought.

i write
because i am upset
and since when has writing become a form
of exploitation of the human condition
?!

this will all be over soon
he said
over? can that be replaced by fixed?
i don't want it to be over
i want my expectations to become real

i don't want you to go
that steady decline you've been in
you made me hope for too many things
we talked about
starting a business
suceeding in business
starting a charity
building communities
we planned out
my wedding
my family
your new house with a swimming pool
you said you'd give me away
watch whether i decide
to be a stay at home parent
or pursue a career
you're still convincing me
to take on a responsibility im not yet ready for
i need you...i still
want to need you
to be my support
at some point i'm not so certain
of my intentions

before
i met you
i was taught
to value
money
to build
a reputation
to keep
up appearances
above all else

with you
all i had disappeared

before
i met you
i learned
to do
what was convenient
to be
invisible to myself
to have
less than what was due

does it stop there?

maybe you taught me
the better part of me
maybe you showed me
the other side of things
but there is so much more
to hope for now

the just will have a cause
worth fighting for

things are at an end
all these will be done
it shall be finished soon enough

This secret, best kept away
from prying hands that drop
eyes on eaves and awnings.

They stay within
the perimeter of spies and agents
doubling as bartender ears,

drink up and pour
the punch that hits you where
you bleed invisible. The spleen

lacerating split, a penetrating
ooze, cleaves back and forth with you.
Drain out and glaze over. Be very,

very still.

If I should fall a thousand steps into your arms,
will they not wait? For I
let not Cassiopeia move beyond her throne
to encroach my bed.
                                       Let gravity
seek its master upon my feet
and warm itself in my slippers,

carry me through curtains
and clouds of deceit to reach a haloed moon
in an airless night. If I

should wait a thousand years for a single step into your arms,
will they not open? For I
let wide the gates and fiery the oil

to relinquish the kingdom and forge
against the current into the quiet distance.

What no ears have heard nor eyes have seen

Peppermills and pancakes
Love
like no other poetry
to perceive
the beauty
in life
in pain
in darkness
in sin

What no mind can see nor hearts can hear

The secret 
byways and highways 

Untold
Unkept
In allways 



I've not met you
I've not known

Yet,
in noways and nothing is everything in you.

                     Who notices prepositions
                      unless they dangle

                      like earrings
                      begging the spotlight.

                      They act
                      like auditioning extras

                      or photo-bombers.



                       Of the people, for the people, by the people,

                       what does that even mean
                       when we, the people
                       are simply people

                       trying out humanity.



                       My nephew goes blah blah blah,    
                       which is cute and could
                       mean anything when
                       spoken randomly _ an 18-month old,

                       like prepositions
                       _  the people:

                       _ God, we trust.

i am a passenger
free to roam on the east sides
of redundancy and table manners

flower markets thrive on dawn skies
arranged as tourist spots
the baker's fair selling eggshells
cracked on cobblestone soup
meatpies sold out too soon
appleseeds scattered for birds

i sweep them all up
and see patterns grow on my skin

let it not be said i did not try, i did not do
for too soon the the heat covers the shade as well
and not even the acacia can go without thirst

fill my cup with honeydew milk
and add bittergourd and salt

i can let philistine warriors come from the backroads
and enter the frontlines
if only to join you

In between the media, gadgets and social
anxiety, I have feelings too. They
tell me to stop and listen to something
other than YOLO and FOMO. As I browse
through feeds, the limbic
part of me raises the bar a little, while
the frontal part of me swings
between dissatisfaction and hope.

I look at you
from the peripheral field of my mind. I know
you won't stop. Craving
more is what we were made
to become. Somewhere in our heads,
we lost our hearts.

.

Midday sweeps in
a bronzing fury,

prickling its way
through skin,

pierces the core
to bleed

then, drenched
in affectation,

I turn away
to rest.

I will swathe
some lotion after,

for the scent
of longingness

follows.
A bath awaits.

II  silence


"I fear I may lose myself
before our first kiss..."


Fifty calls later
we still talk
about nothing

And nothing
is certain
Not the wildfires
Not the rainstorms

Just this beating
of the clock...

The fire, the foal, a coming of age
in the light of the darkness
be still.

Faithful, adjourning
take flight in the stars.
Wind gushes.

Away, you fools!
Grasping the straws
of camaraderie.

We light
we sparkle
then fade


Amen.

that one time, unsurpassed

at first, white
coral fountains drizzling
spring cotton, pink
candy dye
blushed
on stain
capped champagne

jackknife popped

fizzled soda
drop

the last
sweet, melty flavored
slink...

Do not go out softly
but like a free verse
rain into the Pacific

splattered then spent.
Odious vessel,
dry and salted.

Come watch comets
graze mountains,
with their audacity.

And eclipses! Behind
blue lights and fluorescent skies --
foibles of exigency.

Form was not made
for free spirits
to crash into. Watermarks

dance lively now, like petals
that once spiralled
outside our window.

.                                 i am missing
                                  you so much it hurts,


                                 i am ill-
                                 treated and need strength,


                                 i am afraid,
                                 unsure of what to do.


                                you're imagining things,
                                 you said.

You cast that vermillion border
and glance at me with unswept eyes

Your voice holds pain and the comfort 
of solitude

I have journeyed you a hundred years.
The wind gets caught 
in your waves. You throw us back to sea

I hunger for you,
the clamor of rocks that descend into darkness 
and the clouds that hide your secret skies.

The ecstasy of you in the very 
pit of me waits to come out

and engulf me once more.

Naked,

as the rising sun echoes

deliverance. Behind a shroud,

prowling the edges of Shangri-la.

Pounces to devour sea and sky.

Nobody talks
of love
thrown into a gutter.*

There is no glory in leaves
rotted to mulch,
turned with dirt.
They drain
and clog.

One look begins our pain,
one sweep ends their suffering.

We attend
at all times
a need to strive
and tend our strife.
To clear the heap,
we burn,

return to ourselves in a corridor of light,
and make do with the bareness of our hands.

The mind follows,
the will carries.
We reach

and let go.
Our smoke
glides the current,

for dreams do not die,
only granted
to the passing-by.

Before the beginning,
Man said, "This is a world to conquer."
Hence, Man released his word
and it was a resounding,
"I will."
A bright shining beacon
separated the darkness.

This was how it began.

The next day, Man separated
high-minded thoughts from base desires
and called one educated and planned,
the other, trivial and crass,
and made one above the other in ranks.

Morning and evening passed.

On the third day, the desires were gathered
and separated into virtues and vices.
Each had seeds abundant with
the reapings of their own rewards and consequences.

All was good but the darkness and light
were stark. So on the fourth day
Man said, "I will give the darkness flecks of light
and the light covers of darkness
so that everything will have shadows
and shades to cover themselves upon."
And Man saw all was as he pleased.

Then Man pronounced, "I will fill
the virtues and vices with every sort of thing
to feed on according to their kind.
They shall be fruitful and multiply and they shall
swarm and crawl and fly according to their own kind.
They shall become beasts and livestock which
plot and prey on each other according to their own kind."
And so it was on the fifth day.

When Man saw how everything
was as he made it to be,
Man said, "I shall make a god in my own image, he will
be as I proclaim and
be the bearer of my creation. He will be for me
a cause to have dominion over all."

And so on the sixth day,
Man created a god in his own image
to subdue everything. He said to him, "Now, you will
grant me permission to do as I have always done and
in your name, claim glory."

On the seventh day, Man saw all was absolved
and done according to his will.
Man rested and let the name of god
carry the load.

They march
withered but undying
with mud
fallen sweetly on their faces.

A new sky and a tender wind
grant severance from the sea.

Haunt us no more
with your pikes and arrows.
Blend our moanings and call our names:

the sunflower,
the wind,
the moonshine breaks

a mirrored frame,
a knighted sky,
and iron cast in embroidered lace.

I lay my hopes in
a hinterland of grace/waste.

What will a soul bring
that a body cannot
in sorrow or in death?

When sentiments of corpses
hang high from windows
paneled by offense,

stars fall on broken strings.

dredge in mud
knee deep
but sky high

trudge the sludge
plod the crud
and form tracks

nearly sighted
look far
to reach

growth will follow

atlantis can see
flames dance

across the milky way

i see fire
and i want you

to remember me

Falling flowers
tiptoe into fire,

quelled by rain.

What of the sea,
that lends its tacit form,
as druids of the night
that heaves a heavy shore?

Might I clamor it's doldrum manner
sink to its floor and stir
lively the depths, the mines
of it's will,

bring to shallows an unbridled storm,
the waking eye,
a trembling fist
and rage to the very heart
-- the tempest!

No, when far more a soul thrives
in the calm breaths
of its peaceful sigh.

It was the kind of day
to visit a fortune teller.

Your faint smile remains a mystery,
because you preserve yourself
more than anything.
You prophesy at will and turn wheels.
That is what you do best.
Candle wax dare not scald you.
Strings are woven long.

The day I cut my hair was a cool summer,
two weeks before my birthday.
I left town never to come back.
Your daughters laughed so hard
at the money you threw their way they
probably had spit coming out of their eyes.
That was what they wanted.
It was simple, clean.

The child is young,
he won't know the difference,
convinced yourself thus,
but young 'uns do. They know more
than you ever let on, and they remember,
not the glaring presents or permission to speak moments,
it's the little things, the lilt in your voice
the brush aside look, the pursed lips,
the endless drone of the television
and ipad volume turned up max.

Allow me to demonstrate.*
The sky before and after a thunderstorm is the same shade,
but the land changes,
and the air that breathes in it.
The slight rustle in the trees could mean anything.

Indian spirits once danced around the flames
summoning blessings and visions
that may never come.
Yet, in my dreams were two apples --
green and red, both eaten by worms.
They grew voracious in my hands.

I bathe in heated waters and scrub
lavender and chamomile.
The stew left in the pressure cooker was soft and fell apart,
little droplets of oil cling to me,
I am scented thus.

On a footbridge, I see
the once pristine ground muddied and stars
replaced by fireworks.
Couples hold hands
and smile for any reason.
Taxis come and go, foraging
the next big opportunity.

My flipflops are fine
but my feet are freezing.
I can order coffee
with what I have left
but don't.

I can remember
what doing good
used to be -- give
food, drink, then
clothe & shelter,
visit imprisoned
and sick people,
bury our dead.

There is no money,
taxes or insurance
to complicate it all.

in the in-betweens and half-steps
you took me away, into
and out of
the go-getters and lay-lowers

with you, the en-compass-ing
points of origin do not end

so you bring me back
to a beginning.

-1-
how often come the slowed beatings
of time

unleashed by knowing
these devilish ifs
whens and buts

of roads half-built
and half-burnt

yet water still flows beneath
these eggshells of circumstance
widening to the same sea of chance

-2-
when have
the dust of men
received ear
if not by word or doing

when have stars lost light
even as the multitude of years pass
the dead shine just as bright

-3-
grateful hearts receive no ill
as unjust souls receive no heart

the head and the tail
do not mourn the body
for how fat or lean it was

how sweetly the fruit tastes
and sorely it rots

A slow ritual of praying at her bare feet had begun on the occasion of the first time he saw her apply chapstick —
the linoleum floor wiped with acetone, her cucumber skin, sacred red, bleach white and oiled slick.
He found that it suited him to be that close to her black toe nail polish, his eyelashes lying perfectly on the glossy finish
and even as he kissed the paleness of her soft marbled skin, all he saw was black as his eyes fell shut with hers.
They dreamt of perfect oceans and places inside the piña colada glasses where nasty secrets didn’t seem all that bad.​
​
~ fin ~​
– Martha Grace Hsieh and Daniel J. Flore III

We looked at the stars
and the moon to navigate
within the time and spaces of our confines

I see the lunar ricepaddies give their soft glow
and well-lit veins tremble under thin tranquil clouds

Once, I had no home
Tossed in the waves of uncertainty and disbelief,

I looked to the stars and further
for patterns of usefulness
The bright lights were glaring

while the empty seas inside turned dark

I found no reflection.

A minute passes.

I’m miles ahead of where I used to be

take me to where
streams lie still
asleep in an hourglass

i will trade my glider
for a raft
and go around the world

chase after sea turtles
venture into the Amazon
catch minnows with my hand

swim ashore and walk
barefoot into jungle
scale the Andes

drink molten ice caps
and bask in the beatings of a naked sun
to breathe the fresh

thin air
intoxicated with coca
infused with enough starlight

to turn the equator
into arcs of fire
and build

mi casa
mi pueblo
mi corazon de amor

I

It rained at each night's birth, and I wonder how things never go as we
intended. Each howl is a reminder of how dark it gets as we soldier along
the low visibility from the meconium we dump on ourselves. But we
tunnel our way into that night sky, lapping up any spark and shadow --
teetering between what is and was become us.

It shouldn't matter because it never did, not to you,
not as much as it did to me. That's why the day came to you much earlier,
and yet the rain still poured, murky and no matter how you clean it, it stains

between skin and nails, and that spot where it all begins,
between lung and air. I could breathe it in
and drown out of water.

II

Funny as the rain goes farther away, thunder is heard more distinctly.
Still trying to breathe, that was when you cut us off. One by one,
choking through the daylight at night, while the windows shatter
on the white-tile floor. "Water!

I need water!" someone shouted. It was warm
and cold at the same time, what my insides
were telling me my outsides were feeling. Just then, some semblance
of progression, a rhythm that tethered complacency began
to show. Something made me believe
it isn't suppose to be like this, but nothing
showed me otherwise.

The rain has stopped.

III

Blood and glass litter the once pristine and antiseptic. Shards
get missed, but it doesn't matter. No one talks about those.
It's made for an easy clean-up. It all sounds fishy. The smell
was the problem,

stuck to our hair, our skin, even the fresh linen
covering our nakedness did not escape the memory
of the congealed and spent. Our petrichor
binds us all, until we're not anymore.

I will paint a sky
of stars in our room
away

from burdening lights,
fill the road
with laughter
even as
the sun sets behind
a shadowy treeline

The city across the lake
will stay quiet
as ripples
make their way to shore

lather the sand beneath our feet
wiggle our toes
close our eyes
look up

and taste
the scent of manna
everyday for the first time.

it was winter when i wrote you ;
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice --

ice,
it beat on my door --
slivered on the mattress,
sheets of it --
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.

when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun --

inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.

i heard the tempest, both sea and sky --

faith,
they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock


in ice.

i can't see past sanity

    ...tick tock

    the door
    lights out
    creaking floorboards
    of dreams striped and contorted
    you, whirling away
    the night
    calling the cuckold clock

    ...tick tock

    the forest of eyes
    that winter in me
    the tracks in the snow
    bitten off by white waters

    ...tick tock

    i can't see past ignorance

    ...tick tock

    the open blindness to chances
    unrelenting sparks
    of hope faded in memory

    ...tick tock

    in distance
    torn away
    claws scratching canvas
    screeching blackboards
    hands over my ears
    to make it through
    to make it

    ...tick tock

    stop.

politics, in love, and war. ambivalent truth. corruption. bonded in blood. tied by fortune.

glass ribbons hold us
cracked open
by the wait

pregnant forces
unchanging tides
effortless needs

beneath a demeanor
i see a hammer
about to fall.

blades of grass gather
the wind

cattails sing
of shallow rain
tremors of dragons
litter the sunlight

some carry tears
others cry away
a curl of absence
embroiled with relief

How we string together
     what binds us
     to ourselves

When did we become
     masters? This
     redundant throne

We buy into glory for
     our satsfaction
     then leave

for another slides into
      the seat of our mind.

A smaller room
hand-me-down clothes
borrowed car

I've no need
for baubles
pets
cliques

I've got less
credit
make-up
options

We were born equal
but you wanted more
so you took everything away
and left me worse than dead.

With nothing left
I found
my self
my friends
my God.

So thank you.

What it is,
tethered to your arms?
*** has gone.

******* hurled itself
out the door and into the highway,
lured by the hitch hiker's course.

Your ****** shaft bears
no resemblance to a sheathed dagger
that once slayed

indiscriminant of ***** lips and vulvous tongues.
Hands that hailed eyes
shut to meaning, mouthed

delirious to more than ailments of corporal pleasures.
Flesh to flesh,
breath to skin,

sweat of your brow
dripped into the last sheets
soiled and saturated.

But what is it,
tethered to your arms still?
Transfigured

to what lingers beyond
a look and a touch,
strings the web to another bridled day.

it held my arm
and took me
into night, into morning
out of a midnight sun
and into the deadened
deadened stars

and the shutters left a beating
a cold beat, still
still in my heart.

Some winged locusts swarmed in
tender and frayed
scalloped leaves flicked into the ashen wind
sounded, tinkering

tinkering of bluebells
bluebells and dewdrops.
The wind
chimes chiming
through and through

and the dewdrops strayed
strayed onto a path
cobbled and ******

pebbles
rolling in the dust of the moon
into the still
blue

blue-black waters.

A marred mirror of broken glass
and sliver of concrete gusts

gusts the wind
a fury bale
and lights

set in.

I never knew how lonely a man
a man in blue

a blue man

you.

i see that
smile
but separate from my lips

i see those
tears
but not of my eyes

and that
sweat
from brows

not mine
but the voices
pretending to be me

i am perturbed of
the two voices
in my head
so sure of themselves
of where i should go

i tried one way
thought i could
have what i want
resulted in how
the other said i'd be

i went the other way
unable to go fully
and i could not
identify myself
apart from them

There once was a young man
lost at sea.

For days his mother wept.
An old man came.

Solemn she begged,
"Bring him back."

"A life for a life,
that is the law."

"My years are at an end,
his has just begun."

That night she bled
until daybreak.

The men appeared, fished
her son on their vessel.

She smiled with no fare-wells,
and left.

Her son held no funeral,
made no tears,

became a drunkard
and died just the same.

.



                              it makes a difference

it rained                                                           one event

as the sun rose                                                the advantage taken

or vise versa                                                    versus

­the genius                                                        the­ one given

is the unknowable                                          is only patched

set up of                                                           depending on

what happens next.                                        the result.

I will not go
softly leaving the fallen and broach upon your sight;

I will not shiver
coldly waking at the gathering of a nihilating night;

I will not reason
lightly speaking your name and numbered days;


       I choose the wily river
       to bend and straighten the sounds
       of your longing breaths
       and ease the burden
       given by each willful caress.

is built on dreams and
agonies that were known too late.

Both mannequins and puppeteers
lay beneath the ashes of rosewood
and petals. The lords and laborers
drink blood like wine and through
their gullets pass equal measures
of stone and excrement.

I bear the flesh
wounds inside.

My eyes continue to see the crumbles
from the roofs. I can still hear hysteria
forcing me to enter. The vines carry fruits;
they are strings that pull me under.

"Dig through the dirt, then
climb up." You taught me
light can still shine
from the ground.